Remaining Dust
by FallingDomino
Summary: It's been six years since Kat Thornton has seen the Winchester boys. And though happy to see her old friends after an unexpected encounter, the timing couldn't have been worse. After discovering a dark secret about her family bloodline, Kat hides in a small town, hoping no one will find out what she's become. But how long will it be until her skeletons are dug up? DeanxOc, Season 2
1. Gathering of Old Friends

**(Disclaimer: I do not own the show Supernatural or own any of the characters. I only make claims to my own OC, Kat.)**

**Fair warning, this story has some intense smut but I can guarantee it isn't completely revolved around sex hehe just want to give you a heads up. If you don't like graphic sexual scenes, I recommend looking in the 'T' rated stories, or lower. I don't like to hold back with my hot and heavy scenes and nor will I even try.**

**Stay crazy.**

ONE: Gathering of Old Friends

**Dry Prong, Louisiana **

I was getting drunk. More drunk perhaps, than any other local townie sitting in this shady-ass bar. Believe me; I didn't get drunk that often, so when I did, there was always a reason behind it. The reason usually being depressing and probably leading to the conclusion that I will have a mid-life crisis by the time I'm thirty. Pathetic, right? Sadly, that's where I am in life right now.

What's even worse is that I know I'm going to get so drunk that soon I'll be flirting with trashcans. Not that my standards have ever been any higher.

God, this is probably the worst way I could have introduced myself, but unfortunately I can't say something really impressive like I'm a grad student who majored in law school, or I went down to South Africa de-worming orphans. Hell, I can't even day that I graduated high school. The reason being is that some of us had had our lives put out in front of us since birth and are forced to see the sad and ugly truth from a very young age. And I, Kat Thornton, am one of those people, and I've come to accept that my life will never really lead to something great and important.

The sad truth is I will either die by some terrifying demon on one of my hunts, or from alcohol poisoning.

"Can I get you another one, honey?" the bartender, Mr. Willy, asked me kindly, walking up to me with a dishtowel in his hand and wiping one of the glasses dry. I looked up at him, realizing I was absentmindedly stirring my toothpick in the ice of my now-empty glass. The barman was a slightly porky, squat little man with a babyish round face and large blue eyes. He had a patch of balding brown hair but still had very out of date sideburns. He looked good-natured and always threw his head back and placed his hands on his large beer-belly whenever he laughed.

I've been visiting the bar often these past couple of weeks so I was growing accustomed to the people who hung around it. I liked Mr. Willy a lot mainly for his good humor, constant cheer, and kind words he always had to offer to his customers. He was one of those bartenders that looked forward to listening to the complaints and stories that all of his patrons had for him. Probably because he liked solving things and helping around whenever he could.

"No, I better not," I said with an ill-attempt to smile. "I don't want to crash on my way back home."

"I can call a taxi," he offered with a slight shrug.

I hesitated in the moment of considering this option. It was very tempting. Lately, I haven't had any desire to stay in my right mind and preferred my state of mind to be foggy and blurred out. Yet sense came back to me.

I shook my head.

"Rain check?" I suggested, grabbing my brown leather jacket from the back of my bar stool and standing up. "Thanks, Willy."

I reached into my pocket to pull out my wallet, but Willy waved his hand aside.

"On the house, sweetie. You have a good night."

I was about to protest with my fingers clutching the twenty-dollar bill, but I knew he wouldn't accept it. I smiled and nodded at him gratefully.

"Thank you," I said, shifting on my jacket.

"Have a good one, Katy," he says, waving goodbye as I walk toward the exit.

The air outside was hot and humid, as most Louisiana nights are. In the nearby marsh that was settled in the trees, I could hear the crickets, loons, and all other night animals make their calls known from the shadows. The wind picked up and brushed against my slightly sweaty skin, making me breathe in a sigh of relaxation.

I registered the practically empty parking lot for a moment before pressing forward, my shoes crunching against the gravel. I approached my beaten up 1969 Chevy pickup truck and unlocked the door, wishing the swaying in my head would stop. I climbed in and adjusted my rear-view mirror, about to place the keys in the ignition. But my eyes spotted something in the mirror.

I glanced over my shoulder where I was sure I just saw a figure standing a few yards behind my truck. There was nothing now. I turn back to face the wheel, my eyes frowning back in the mirror. I hesitated with the keys still dangling in the ignition.

If I was smart, I would know that whenever you see something slightly out of the ordinary or anything that gives you a strange gut feeling, ninety percent of the times it's something that wants to kill you. I suppressed a sigh and dug in the back seat of my car and pulled out a shotgun that was filled with rock salt.

I kicked my truck door open and strode out into the apparently empty parking lot. I held my gun tightly in my fingers as my eyes scanned the area for any signs of movement.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," I said dully. "Come out and fight me like a . . . thing."

I received no reply but I wasn't really expecting one. I released a small sigh as I walked to the other side of the parking lot, looking up and down the row of various cars that were parked a good distance from the bar establishment.

I was about to make another comment, but before I can even open my mouth I was cut off by sudden shouting from nearby.

"Come on! It's getting away!" I heard.

"Sam, move your slow ass up! Get me the gun!"

My eyebrows pushed together as I heard these words. I whirled around in the direction of the nearby marsh. For merely a second in the light of the half-moon, I saw in the distance two figures running at full speed into the entrance of the swamp. I stood there for five more seconds before clutching my gun tightly to my chest and hurling myself over the parking lot railing and into the brush.

As I grew closer to the swamp entrance, I heard more shouting. I ran in without hesitation and was instantly overcome by the intense stench of bog water. I was careful to avoid stepping into the water so as not to attract any unwanted attention from the alligators.

I continued to follow the voices and realized the people must have stopped at least ten yards away from me. I peered around a mossy tree to get a good look at what was going on.

Two figures, of what I guessed were male, were enclosing in upon a tall silhouette that was making slightly disgusting gurgling noises. By the odd, slightly deformed shape, I was guessing this thing was a demon of sorts. Rock salt wasn't going to serve me much good.

The thing had suddenly ensnared one of the guys and pinned him up against a nearby tree, hurling the other one into a nearby pool of swamp water into the process. I didn't hesitate this time and lunged forward out of the brush and advanced on the demon.

I jumped forward and ended up instinctively placing my gun around the demon's neck in attempt of suffocation. In general, this would really have no effect, so my guess was that it merely dropped the guy out of surprise.

It was worse than riding a mechanical bull. The scaly creature thrived and thrashed, causing me to almost buck my own head with my feet. I gritted my teeth and held my gun tighter to the thing's throat, determined to cause an impact.

It revved up against a tree where my back was slammed hard into the bark and I felt a temporary failure of strength and also the loss of breath. But thankfully, the two guys seemed to have gathered that I had come to their aid. The one who had been thrown into the water now appeared to be loading his gun and trying to get a good aim.

"Get off the damn thing!" he shouted. Even in the fit of confusion and struggle, the voice seemed very familiar to me.

With some trepidation, I loosened my grip upon the demon's neck and was instantly thrown into the air and landed hard on the ground. I let out a groan of pain as my rib came in contact with a rock. I looked up just in time to see the guy aiming his gun at the thing. An extraordinarily loud gunshot rang through the swamp's atmosphere and pounded through my ears like cymbals.

The demon, whatever it was, fell almost instantly to the marshy earth face first. There was a moment in which I struggled to lift up my shirt to see if there was any damage. It was too dark to really see but at least I wasn't bleeding. I looked up to see both of the guys walking towards me. One of them offered me a hand. I hesitated before taking it and they brought me swiftly to my feet.

"You're not exactly the brightest crayon in the box, are you?" one of them said with an edge to their voice.

"Dean, shut up," the other said angrily, turning to face him. "She just risked her life to help up us."

"Yeah, well, we didn't need it. Sorry, sweetheart."

Wait a minute. Dean? And, did I hear him say Sam before?

I frowned into the darkness, trying to make out their facial features. I suddenly felt my eyes grow wide as my entire body had something of a shock run through it.

"Dean? Sam?" I said, barely more than a whisper. They looked at me, obviously trying to decide whether they recognize me or not. "It's me! Kat! Kat Thornton!"

There's a short moment in which, even in the dark, I can see the sudden comprehension be written clearly over each of their expressions.

"Kat?" Sam asked, his voice shaking with both skepticism and amazement. "What the—what are you _doing _here!?"

.

"I don't believe this," said Sam as I poured him and Dean some herbal tea into the fragile china cups. They both took them into their hands gratefully as I got myself a cup of my own and sat opposite them. We were sitting in the living room of my charming little two-bedroom cabin that was placed fairly deep within a forest.

"Yeah, Kit-Kat. What are the odds?" Dean said, waggling his eyebrows before taking a sip of his tea. He grimaced slightly. "Do you have anything stronger?"

"Like tea?"

"Like booze."

I suppressed a small smile.

"I'll check."

I set my cup of tea aside and got to my feet, walking up to the kitchen and opening one of the top cupboards. My hand froze on the surface of a brandy bottle. I bit down on a Cheshire cat grin.

It certainly had been a long time. Six years, at the least. And who would have guessed that out of all places, all times, and all possibilities could Dean and Sam Winchester be the ones that I saw running into a swamp and chasing down that demon? As Dean said, the odds were a little slim. So maybe that meant there was something else going on here.

Yet at the moment, I didn't care. I had grown up with both of the boys because both of our fathers were hunters and very good friends. I was there with Dean and Sam when our fathers were out on a hunt and we were stuffed in a moldy motel room with nothing much to do except watch cartoon re-runs.

When I looked back, I had known the Winchester boys since birth and I wouldn't have guessed in a million years that I would be seeing them tonight. I loved them; both of them. They had been my siblings growing up and we held many similarities consider that both of our mothers died when we were very young.

I shook my head and took out the bottle and returned with it to the living room.

"Ah. Perfect," said Dean as he took the bottle from my hands and poured a generous amount of the honey-colored liquid into his tea.

"So, Kat, what have you been doing all this time?" inquired Sam curiously. "I mean, last I heard you were still living with your father in Montana."

My heart skipped a beat and I glanced down awkwardly, staring determinately into my cup of tea as though it fascinated me.

"What? What's wrong?" asked Dean, setting aside his cup and trying to meet my eye.

"Kat—did something . . . happen?" questioned Sam.

I looked up at them, running my fingers through my reddish-brown hair. I sighed out of my nose.

"Is he alright?" asked Sam.

"He's fine," I assured him. "Just—about a year ago—we, uh, got in a fight."

"And this fight was big enough for you to run all the way down to redneck Louisiana?" asked Dean as he eyebrows rose.

I looked at him. He took my silence for an answer. He sat back on the couch, his eyes still studying me.

"What was the fight about—"

"It's really none of our business," Sam said, cutting across Dean.

I didn't answer but gazed out of the window, wishing dreadfully that the subject would change.

"What about you two?" I asked forcefully, raising my head and forcing a smile on my face. "What kind of mischief have you guys been getting yourselves into?"

The brothers exchanged looks.

"A bit too much for my tastes," said Dean.

"Meaning?"

Dean cracked me a sideways smile.

"We've been driving across the country taking out demons left and right. Probably for more than two years now."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Look who's been busy. I've been lying low the past year, occasionally taking out a passing by demon like the one tonight."

Dean let out a low whistle.

"Your life got boring, Kit-Kat. You also had to choose possibly the most boring town in the country. I'm not even sure I would call this a town."

"I don't like big crowds," I said.

"Noted. The alligators out-populate humans here."

I smiled tiredly.

There was a short pause in which a loon made its call from the watering pool that was placed beside the house. I let out a small yawn and got to my feet.

"Well, thanks for having us, Kat," said Sam who also got to his feet. "It's been great seeing you."

I raised my eyebrows again.

"The hell you talking about?" I demanded. "You're not assuming I'm going to let you boys go, are you?"

The two exchanged another glance.

"No. No way. Not on my watch. Not after six years. You guys are staying here until you decide to leave."

They both sort of stared at me, but obviously recognized my stern and ordering voice that indicated that I was going to get my way.

"Man, I love it when a woman takes control," said Dean.

I fought a grin.

"C'mon. I have a spare bedroom for one of you, but the other is going to have to take the pull out couch."

"I'll take the bedroom," stated Dean. Sam shot a quick glare at him.

"No way," he said. "Why would _you _get to?"

"Because I'm the oldest," said Dean as though it was perfectly obvious.

"Rock, paper, scissors," said Sam.

I watched in high amusement as the two brothers played the game like small children. And like I remembered, Dean would only choose scissors.

I held in a little giggle at the sight of Dean looking very childishly put out as he predictably lost.

"Follow me," I laughed. I led the two boys into the spare bedroom where a single, soft twin bed was placed against the wall. It was already made so Sam automatically jumped upon it and gloated slightly at his brother. Dean scowled.

"I'll help you make your bed," I said, opening the closet and taking out a sheet and a few blankets.

Dean grinned at me.

"Or, you know. I can just kick it with you in your bed," he said impishly. Sam rolled his eyes and was suddenly looking extremely apprehensive.

I smiled slightly.

"Not tonight, Don Juan. You're bunking on your own."

"Aw, c'mon, Kit-Kat," Dean persisted. "We used to sleep in the same bed all the time."

"Yeah but that was when we were five and in footie pajamas," I said, stuffing the sheets into Dean's hands and turning to face Sam with a smile. "Night, Sam."

"Night," he called as Dean and I left the room.

"How did you manage to get a place like this all on your own?" inquired Dean as we entered the living room again. I took the end of the coffee table and scooted it out of the way as Dean soon began to help.

"Technically, I didn't," I said, starting to take off all of the cushions off the couch and throwing them onto a nearby armchair. "The woman who owns this house is on a three year trip to Europe and pays me to house-sit while she's away."

I took the handle on the end of the couch and pulled the bed out, flattening it out against my palm.

"Pretty good deal," said Dean. He handed me the other end of the sheet and we began to tuck it in the sides. "It's pretty isolating, though. Don't you ever get sick of the quiet?"

"I like the quiet," I said absentmindedly as I pulled a quilt over the bed and placed two pillows at the head of it.

"You were never the quiet type," said Dean.

"Times change."

"I'll say," sighed Dean stiffly. We glanced at each other. There was a short and slightly awkward pause. I was unconsciously straightening out the blankets just for something to do.

"I'll admit," I said finally, breaking the ice. I met Dean's green eyes, eyes that were the exact same shade as his brother's. "I never expected you and Sam to become a team. All the time I've known you guys you've been like vinegar and baking soda; when mixed you both kind of explode."

Dean let out a humorless laugh.

"Yeah, I won't deny that there have been times that I've been convinced to tear Sam's head off. But, he's my brother," he ended shortly. "We're all we've got."

I frowned.

"What do you mean?" I inquired steadily. "I mean you have . . . you have John, right?"

Unexpectedly, Dean's face hardened and he looked down, determinately not meeting my gaze. Something inside of me was suddenly broken before I even knew the reason behind it.

"John—he's—he's alright, isn't he?" I breathed. I knew the answer before Dean met my eyes again. I swallowed, my heart seeming to reduce to a very painfully slow pace. I stared at Dean.

John was as much as a father to me as he had been to Dean and Sam. I had known him since before I could walk or speak, and he had been there for me more times than I could count. Not that my own father wasn't, but between the two I had grown up with more love and adoration than I probably deserved.

There was suddenly a very painful lump rising in my throat. I took a deep breath.

"When?" I asked.

"A few months ago," said Dean absently, his gaze still on mine.

I shook my head. I didn't ask how; I didn't want to know.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I should have been there. I should have known."

"How could you?" said Dean with a halfhearted shrug. "Don't worry about it, Kat."

"Yeah, but before I was going on and on about being mad at my dad and running away from him while you lost yours. I'm sor—"

"Stop apologizing," Dean said firmly with a rough edge to his voice. "Seriously. I should have called but, uh, I had no idea where you were up until this point."

I shifted guiltily.

"I could use another drink, though," said Dean after another pause. I laughed dully under my breath.

"I second that."

A few moments later I returned with two brandy glasses and set them on the coffee table. Dean poured both of them to almost the brim.

"Cheers," he muttered. We clinked our glasses together. I drank deeply, grimacing slightly as I set it back down.

"I can't believe how much has happened," I said quietly as Dean took another sip.

He gave a small shrug. "Well, that's what happens when you live in the world of demons," he said. I bit down on my lower lip.

I glanced toward the clock and saw it was almost one in the morning. I sighed.

"I'm going to bed," I said as I got to my feet and drained the rest of my drink.

"You don't want to have another one with me?" Dean said with a mock-hurt expression.

I managed another small smile.

"Maybe another night," I said. I hesitated for a second. And suddenly, whether it was the brandy now burning in my stomach controlling me or out of pure whim, I bent down suddenly and embraced Dean in a very tight hug. This seemed to take him aback a great deal because it was a second or two before he responded to my touch.

"I've missed you, Dean," I said quietly. "Both of you. I didn't realize it until I saw you two in the swamp, but I'm really glad you're here."

Dean obviously didn't really know what to say. He held me somewhat awkwardly before I withdrew. He cleared his throat.

"Yeah, um. Same to you, Katarina," he said stiffly.

"Please don't call me that. I hate it," I said, but I was still smiling. He managed to smile back.

"All the more reason I'm going to," he said.

I backed up a few paces to my bedroom door.

"Sweet dreams," I said.

"Back 'atcha."

I entered my bedroom and shut the door quietly behind me. I changed into my Snoopy Dog pajama pants and pale blue tank top. In the bathroom, I met my reflection in the sink mirror. My complexion remain its dull, ivory state that lacked the right amount of rosy color. My mane of coppery hair rested on my shoulders and back with a fit of mild and stubborn tangles.

It was always my eyes that I looked at last when coming face-to-face with my reflection. A shade of hazel that held more brown than green.

And almost in unison with my fear, my eyes flashed a terrible, bottomless jet-black screen. A screen that covered the whites of my eyes completely as well as my iris.

You'd think I'd be used to the sight by now, but every time I see it my heart comes close to stopping and sorrow and fear encase over me like a disease. It was a sensation of a claw attempting to rip my spine out.

I grasped my hand to my mouth and clenched my eyes shut, hoping against hope that they would return to their normal hazel shade. I didn't look to find out. I turned my back to the mirror and shut off the bathroom light and climbed into the king-sized bed. I hugged my knees to my chest, staring into the darkness that was not so dark to my eyes anymore.

I was afraid. That much was obvious. I've known for little less than a year and I can't get used to it.

But how was I going to explain to the two guys I loved most on this earth that I've turned into the thing that they hunt down?

* * *

(AN: First Supernatural fic! I hope ya'll like. Tell me what you think :)


	2. Bacon

TWO: Bacon 

I was never taught to shy away at the concept of fear. Fear was meant to be understood and recognized, not ignored. What I was taught was to not let the fear overcome me, for out of every demon and evil spirit out there, fear has been proven to be man's greatest and worst enemy.

But what I was not taught, however, was what to do when I fear myself.

I awoke to a smell that was similar to burning barbeque. My eyes fluttered open with some trepidation, landing on my open window where unwelcome rays of morning sunshine were streaming in. I glanced around my bedroom, temporarily confused about my location. I shifted into a sitting position, yawning and running my fingers through my hair. I uncovered myself from the sheets and set foot on the cedar flooring.

I stumbled my way into my bedroom, my eyes squinting slightly in the sudden morning brightness. I yawned again, and leaned down to turn on the faucet and splashed my face with cool water. When I rose again, I met my reflection's gaze and frowned. I half assumed the eyes would flash black again as it did the previous night, but they remained their brownish hazel. I left the bathroom, feeling no reassurance.

As I opened my bedroom door, a distinct crackling noise was heard from the kitchen area. I looked toward the living room and saw that the pull out couch was minus a Dean and the blankets were tossed carelessly onto the floor.

I proceeded to the kitchen and peered around the corner. Dean's back was to me as he faced the oven top where he was apparently flipping something within the skillet. There was a dim trace of smoke hanging in the air as the burning stench increased. I also noted with some amusement that he was completely lacking a shirt.

"Shit!" Dean swore, who had evidently burned himself from the hot oil. He swung around to suddenly look at me, sucking on his burnt pinky. He looked surprised to see me. "Kat. What are you doing here?"

"I live here," I said. "And also I think it'd be best if I stopped you from burning the house to the ground."

I walked to the window and cracked it open, where immediately some of the clouds of smoke leaked out of. I glanced into the frying pan. There were only a few pieces of shriveled up bacon that had been burnt coal-black lying in the skillet in a pool of olive oil. I only knew it was bacon because I saw the open package sitting on the counter beside the oven.

I met Dean's face with a slightly dubious smile.

"You're not used taking care of yourself are you, Dean?" I asked as someone might of a child trying to learn a difficult task. He scowled.

"I was hungry," he pouted.

"And also hot," I said before I could stop myself. I felt my cheeks redden slightly at the look he gave me. "I meant as in—that you don't have—is it written somewhere that guys can't sleep with a shirt on?"

My flustered babbling earned me another pair of raised eyebrows from him. He turned to poke the bacon crisps with the spatula as if in attempt to restore their quality, but it was in vain.

" I'm not the one wearing Snoopy pajama pants," he shot back childishly. The corners of my lips twitched. My eyes drifted for a second upon on the pentagon tattoo plastered upon Dean's chest before moving to the skillet.

" Don't talk down on my Snoopy. He's my homie," I said.

"Whatever you say, Kit-Kat," Dean said.

Dean seemed to have given up completely as he now slumped his arms to his side and stared mournfully into the pan. I rolled my eyes, grinning, and bumped my hip into his, making him move aside as I scooped out the burnt bacon and threw it in the trashcan. I added four pieces of the pork into the pan and turned the oven down.

"Alright, you damsel in distress," I muttered. "And if you don't wipe that Cheshire cat grin off your face, I'm going to hit you."

He raised his hands up in gesture of surrender.

"Girls are so violent."

I rolled my eyes.

"Where's Sam, anyway?"

"He went to get some coffee. Should be back in a few minutes."

I shifted a very surprised look on my face.

"You let him take your precious Chevy?"

"What can I say? Sam knows that if he so much lets a leaf touch the paint, I will hunt him down and flay him alive."

"Brotherly love at its finest," I laughed. "Do you want three or four pieces?"

"Four."

There was a slight pause as I flipped the bacon in the pan and walked to the fridge and took out a carton of eggs. I cracked two on the counter edge and poured the insides into the skillet.

"By the by, last I checked, you were a strict vegetarian. Now I can barely find a stick of celery in the fridge. What's that about?" Dean inquired as I placed the bacon onto two different plates.

I met Dean's gaze as I pushed his plate into his hands.

"Like I said; times change."

Dean raised his eyebrows once more.

I led him to the front patio where there was a four-seater table placed on the wooden deck. From here, the little pond could be clearly seen. A tall and handsome willow tree sat on its surface, its wispy braches grazing the surface of the water.

"Louisiana: The state where the mosquitoes bite harder than the demons," said Dean, swatting one on his neck as he sat down. I had to push a heap of junk off of the surface of the table so as to have any use for it. Dean watched me slowly. "Things been kind of slow around here, yeah?"

"Yeah," was all I said.

We ate in silence for a few moments, watching the sun rise higher in the sky, or watch the pond where occasionally a bullfrog emitted from the cattails and disturbed the water's still surface. I glanced at Dean whose gaze was fixed upon the willow tree.

The silence felt odd between us. Growing up I considered the Winchester boys and myself three peas in a pod, or the three Musketeers. Or hell, even the three stooges. But I couldn't possibly assume that after six years everything could be exactly the same as it was before, could I?

True, Dean was still his arrogant and cocky self and Sam remained kind and considerate. Yet obviously recent events had shattered whatever innocence that remained within them. Not that Dean had much to begin with, anyway. I would have my time to lament over the unexpected news of John Winchester's death, but now I had to deal with his two remaining sons. And by deal, I mean keep what knowledge I recently gained a secret from them.

"So, Kat. Tell me more about this argument you had with Jack," said Dean suddenly.

My eyebrows pushed together slightly as I tried to think of a response. I focused my gaze instead upon the tall grass where the cicadas were making a prominent buzzing noise.

"Why do you want to know?" I said quietly.

"Because I want a legitimate reason for why you ran off on your dad like that. You and him were close; it would take a lot for you to be so angry that you would move all the way down to the redneck region."

I suppressed the urge to relieve a dry and sarcastic laugh.

"To be perfectly frank, Dean, it's none of your business," I said, turning to look at Dean with an unchanging expression.

"Great excuse. What are you trying to hide?"

"I'm not trying to hide anything," I said firmly, looking away again; the pressure of his green gaze was becoming overbearing. "It has nothing to do with you, so why would you be interested?"

Dean looked puzzled for a moment and continued to stare out into the open ground. There was another few slow moments where the only sound was the buzzing bugs or call of a bird within the far off swamp area.

"I could—you know. Just, uh . . . listen?" he started awkwardly. I looked at him.

"What?" I asked blankly.

He cleared his throat in a dignified manner and gave a noncommittal shrug, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

"That thing you girls do? Talking and listening? I can give it a shot."

There was a slight pause as we looked at each other. Then I burst out laughing.

"What?" said Dean suddenly, looking at me with apprehension and confusion. "What is so funny?"

"You," I giggled, clutching my stomach. "You're trying to do the whole 'sensitive guy' thing. It's funny."

Dean was still for a few moments before staring at me in disbelief.

"Women," he muttered under his breath. "I will never understand. I get it. I'll stick to my sly and sarcastic comments if it bugs you so much."

I shrugged, still grinning.

"It doesn't bug me. It's cute."

He glanced at me as if I had uttered a disgusting swear word.

"Never, and I mean never, tell a macho guy that he is 'cute'. Not in that sense, anyway," he added, pointing his fork importantly at me.

I snorted.

"Macho?" I said skeptically. "You can't even make yourself breakfast. How are you macho if you can't take care of yourself?"

"Do you hear something? Sounds like this loud, annoying buzzing," Dean said in a matter of fact sort of tone. He shot me a sideways smile. I gave him an appalled look.

"You bitch," I said, laughing as I stood up. "You haven't changed at all, have you? You still have your head shoved up your ass."

"So what are you going to do about it?" provoked Dean with a smirk spread over his face. I gave him another look before I leaned over quickly and swiped away the remaining piece of his bacon.

"I'm going to take your last piece," I said, dangling it in front of his face and swiping it away as he made a grab for it.

He looked at me in horror.

"You wouldn't," he said quietly.

I grinned.

"Watch me."

I let out a sort of laugh-scream as Dean got suddenly to his feet and chased me down the porch and through the grass that lead to the edge of the pond.

"This is probably the evilest thing I can imagine anyone doing," said Dean as he advanced on me. I gave him another smile as I bit the very end of the bacon piece. "And I have seen a lot of evil crap."

I shot him another smile. Dean charged forward. I felt him come in contact with me and my legs suddenly leave the ground. He had swung me over his shoulder and was shaking me in a playful manner.

"Where is my bacon?" he demanded. "Give me my bacon!"

"No!" I laughed. I had dropped it a long time ago, but I was caught up in the moment. I had completely forgotten what it was like to be around him. Many of the times, Dean was often shut off and closed from everyone else. Occasionally, so was I. But I found myself able to open up being the presence of the Winchesters. With them I found peace and a sense of home like no one else could.

We fell to the ground, not a few feet from the water's edge, both of us still laughing. His weight pressed against mine as he held me playfully to the ground, still smirking triumphantly. I was aware of the slight sweat that emitted from his pores of his bare chest, causing an aroma of strong masculinity. I smiled up into his eyes as his own studied my face, his smile faltering slightly. I wasn't sure if he was aware that he brushed a few of my stray hairs aside.

"Do you remember how much we used to wrestle as kids?" he inquired steadily as he grasp over my wrists loosened slightly, but he didn't move from his hovering position over me.

"You mean do I remember all of the times I kicked your ass at wrestling?" I said.

A smile flickered over his face but it soon went away.

"I really have missed you," I whispered, giving another attempt to smile. "I thought about contacting you . . . but I heard Sam went to college and I knew how John would take that. I thought it best to stay out of the way and give you boys some space."

Dean looked like he was also having a hard time trying to put on a happy face.

He looked deep in thought, his eyes trailing over mine and then shifting his position upward. The sudden defined space between us sent both of our gazes to look awkwardly astray.

I let out my breath, rolled my eyes and shifting to my side.

"What?" Dean said, noticing my discomfort.

I didn't answer immediately but shifted to sitting on my bottom, absentmindedly ripping out the grass and silently shredding it.

"I've almost forgotten," I said with a dry laugh. In answer to his confused expression I added: "Whenever you start having a close or . . . intimate conversation with someone, you block yourself off. You can't stand being known."

He looked affronted.

"Not true," he retorted childishly.

"Dean, I've known you my entire life and you're still afraid to be close. Whenever you get close to it, you go on lockdown mode. Your feelings won't hurt you, you know."

"Yeah, well. Not in my experience. We should go back," he added quickly, getting to his feet.

I was about to protest, but there was a sound of rustling brush and Sam materialized. I would have given him a friendly greeting if it weren't for his anxious expression.

"We have a problem," he said,

Dean looked at him.

"Problem being?" he asked.

"I was just down at the supermarket and, uh, heard of these reoccurring killings of animals that happened in the past year."

My heart seemed to fail.

"Animal killings?" questioned Dean, frowning at his brother. "What, like creepy black magic mojo?"

"Maybe," said Sam with a shrug. "Animal killings are traditional used for demon sacrifices and rituals. But get this: not only were the animals dead, but each one of them was completely drained of blood."

Dean's eyebrows continued to rise. I sat there, petrified as I stared with terror into Sam's face.

"Worth checking out," said Sam.

"Right," said Dean absently. He glanced at me. "Feel like joining us on a little side mission? You can be our trusty sidekick."

I got to my feet suddenly, so quick that each of the brothers flinched slightly. My eyebrows were narrowed and my expression was of stone.

"Kat?" inquired Sam nervously.

I tore my gaze away, trying to steady my heartbeat.

"Nothing," I said.

"Then let's go," said Dean.

I held back a couple of seconds before following the brothers back through the grass and toward the black Chevy, my footsteps slow and reluctant. Dean carelessly threw on a gray T-shirt and got in the driver side of his car while Sam took passenger and I sat in the back.

As we drove down the road, I couldn't help but thinking over and over, _I have to get them out of here. I have to get them out of here. I have to get them out of here._

_I have to get them out of here before they find out._

* * *

**Hello my fellow readers. Gracias for partaking in the reading this fanfic. Reviews would be positively fabulous. I am curious as your thoughts so far.**


	3. Attempts of Saviory

**So after watching so many more episodes of Supernatural, I just couldn't stay away from writing more about our beloved Winchester boys, even if I really haven't updated in a while.**

**I hope some of you are still interested, anyway.**

**Also, reviews would be splendid whether you be telling me that you really like the story, or wish to give me some critical advice. I want to be a better writer and not someone who just wants to have endless praise on their work if it isn't really good. So don't be afraid to be honest;)**

THREE: Attempts of Saviory

I was wringing my fingers the entire time Dean and Sam were in the gas station. I was boiling since Dean had left the windows up and a coat of hot sticky sweat was building up on the back of my neck. I shifted my hair up in a ponytail and leaned the side of my head against the window, closing my eyes. I had hated the heat a whole lot more starting about a year ago. The sun wained my energy and made me feel extraordinarily tired. It made living in Dry Prong, Louisiana a whole lot more inconvenient.

But I didn't want to follow the brothers into the station because I was suffering from a mini panic attack and contemplating ways of getting them out of here. It killed me to do so since I loved both of them with every fiber of my being and my stomach clenched painfully at the thought of trying to get rid of them. But it couldn't be helped; I wouldn't live to see them find out what I've become.

I felt bile rise up in my throat at the thought of never seeing them again.

A soft _tap tap _brought me from my dire thoughts and looked up to see Dean knocking on the window, a childish smile on his face.

Edgily, I opened the door and felt the hot, humid air plaster my face. It was like trying to breathe inside of an oven.

"Anything?" I asked.

"Nothing helpful. I . . ." he trailed off as he looked at me more closely, frowning. "You okay?"

I wiped away a tear I didn't even know was there and shifted a smile upon him, but I wasn't sure if it was very convincing.

"Yeah. Just sweat," I said, climbing out of the backseat and straightening my shirt unnecessarily. His eyebrows pushed together but I was saved by Sam who walked up to us, looking down at a map in his hands.

"What happened?" I questioned.

"Well, after Dean flirted the answers out of the cashier," he started in a matter of fact tone, causing Dean to smile smugly. "We found out that throughout the past year over a dozen cattle have been found in the fields. Their hearts apparently taken and-"

"Drained of blood," finished Dean grimly. "So either we have some weird twisted shit who has a fetish for cow blood, or some Satanic worhsipping wacko."

"Well, think about it, Dean," said Sam, pocketing the map. "It wasn't too long ago we came across those vampires that drank cow blood instead of human."

Dean raised his eyebrows at his brother.

"You think we're dealing with the same bloodsuckers?"

"Do you know any other demons who choose to drink animal blood instead of human?" asked Sam.

"No, but those vamps said they were going way out of the country and it's too coincidental that they would be in the same town as us. Air go Satanic sacrifice. Or cow blood fetish."

He smiled expectantly as if expecting us to laugh. Sam just gave him a weird look and glanced at me.

"Kat," he said. "You've been here for the longest. What do you know about this?"

"Yeah," said Dean, also focusing his attention on me. "You've been here for an entire year and just as capable of either of us. What, did you just wait until we showed up so we could do the dirty work?"

I frowned at him.

"Of course I looked into this," I defended. "You know what I found? Nothing."

Both of the boys looked at me strangely.

"BS," Dean said flatly. "That's not the Kat I know. The Kat I know would have looked into this until she got to the bottom of it. You don't care about it all of a sudden or something?"

The Kat you know is gone. I wanted to say these words aloud but refrained from it. I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling helpless. I could think of no excuse, so I said nothing.

"We'll just work this out later,"said Sam slowly, glancing between Dean and me who was looking at me with confused irritation.

I silently thanked Sam. I breathed in deeply and braced myself.

"You two don't need to be here," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "I can deal with this on my own. It'd . . .it'd just be easier."

It was probably the worst thing that could have escaped my lips. Word vomit. I sounded scared and unconvincing. I was an idiot for not thinking this through. Dean and Sam looked at me in astonishment.

"What is up with you?" said Dean.

"Is everything alright?" inquired Sam, looking genuinely concerned.

"Yes," I said firmly. "You guys didn't come at the best time."

"What, six years and that's all you have to say?" said Dean angrily. "You said you found nothing, so I say it's our turn. Something's going on and if you won't try and figure out what it is, then we will. This is our job."

His words made my throat clench. He made me sound so weak, so pathetic. I had forgotten how he never holds back on his words, or how much it hurt.

"Fine," I said with some defiance in my voice. "I'll help you find this demon, or Satan worshiper, cow fetish guy - whatever."

I was going to regret this. I was going to regret this so much. I was going to help them discover something for whom I already knew the perpetrator.

"Good," said Dean, eyeing me steadily. After a moment he turned to Sam. "Call Bobby and try to get an idea what we're dealing with."

Sam nodded, pulling out his cell and walking around the Impala, getting in the passenger's side. Dean gave me a look before climbing into the driver's seat. Taking a shivering breath, I got in after them and we took off down the road.

I sat silently in the backseat, listening to Sam's conversation with Bobby intently. Thanks to my newly acquired acute senses, I could hear Bobby's familiar voice on the other end.

"Bobby," said Sam. "It's Sam."

"_I know who it is," _replied Bobby's voice. "_This is the 21__st__ century, boy. I have caller ID. What do you have for me?"_

"Uh, well you won't believe who I'm with right now," laughed Sam, glancing over his shoulder at me.

"_Someone other than your brother?" _asked Bobby, surprised.

"Kat Thornton," said Sam.

Silence on the other end. I raised my head curiously, wondering what his reaction would be.

_"Put her on the phone, Sam_."

I couldn't tell whether he sounded angry or not. Sam looked just as surprised as I felt but obliged and handed me his cell phone.

"Bobby wants to talk," he said.

I took the cell with tender fingers. Dean glanced at me in the rear view mirror, his eyebrows contracting. I couldn't remember the last time I had talked to Bobby. Probably around the time I had dropped contacts with the Winchesters.

"Bobby?" I asked nervously.

"_You stupid girl," _Bobby hissed into the phone. I sighed, resting the cell phone temporarily on my forehead and massaging my temples. I raised the phone again to my ear.

"Nice to hear from you," I said.

_"I know you were raised partially by those Winchester boys but I never thought you'd do something _this _stupid."_

"Been talking to my dad?"

_"At least someone is," _he said angrily. _"You have no idea how worried sick he is, Kat. He's been searching the entire country for you and not one day has gone by when he hasn't called me on the break of tears and begging me to try an' get a hold of you."_

I rubbed my face, trying to collect my breath.

"How much has he told you, Bobby?" I asked, noting that Dean and Sam were taking interest in the conversation.

"_Doesn't matter what your excuse is. You don't have the right to walk out of your father's home without giving him any inclination of where you are. You do realize that last year Dean and Sam sweat blood trying to find their own father? I can't believe you're _running _from your own. What if something happened to him? He isn't stable, Kat."_

"You don't know the entire story," I said silently, trying to make it so Sam and Dean couldn't hear me. "Something happened, Bobby. Something big. He told me if I left the house, then don't come back. That's what I did."

"_I don't care if you became a demon, you don't _do _that to family. You do realize that's the same exact thing John said to Sam before he left for Stanford? Doesn't mean he meant it. I'm sure Jack is ready to sell his soul to get you back, and I don't mean that metaphorically."_

I bit so hard down on my tongue that I tasted the sweet tang of my own blood. I swallowed.

_"Where are you?" _Bobby asked fiercely.

"I can't tell you," I said.

"_Why not?"_

"You'll tell my dad."

_"_Dammit,_ Kat. This isn't kindergarten. Something could seriously happen to your dad if you don't contact him soon. He isn't - "_

"Bobby wants to talk to you," I said, handing the phone back to Sam. "But - don't tell him where I am. Please."

Sam looked temporarily confused but then understood. He raised the phone back to his ear as I leaned against the car window, the claws of guilt scratching on my insides. I wanted to puke.

"Me again," said Sam.

_"Put her back on the phone!" _yelled Bobby. Sam glanced at me, then to Dean who was giving me an even stranger expression.

"She's unavailable," said Sam.

"_Unavailable my ass. I can hear the car runnin'. She's in the backseat, isn't she?"_

Dean suddenly reached forward and whipped the phone from Sam's grasp.

"Bobby, it's Dean. Put aside your little drama act with Kat for now. We have other things to talk about." He glanced at me in the mirror again.

_"Learn some respect, boy. Kat has some unfinished business with her father that we need to talk about."_

"Don't we all?" muttered Dean. "Look, we're in - in a town where some animals, mainly cows have had their blood drained and hearts taken out of their bodies, maybe eaten. That ring any demon bells?"

_"You're not going to tell me the name of this town, are you?"_

Dean's fingers drummed on the side of the steering wheel, his tongue running over his lips. His eyes met mine in the mirror and my heart jumped slightly when I realized he was going to aid me.

"No," he said. I realized he didn't know that I knew he was helping me since he assumed that I couldn't hear Bobby, but I felt an enormous wave of gratitude toward him nonetheless.

Bobby sighed.

_"Knew you wouldn't. You love that girl like a sister."_

"Always have," agreed Dean. "So, give me some hint on this demon."

I heard Bobby grumbling irritably under his breath which was code for that he was letting it go. For now. After a few moments, Bobby spoke up again.

_"Alright. Well, obviously you overlooked the possibility of a vampire. Next on the list would be a . . .Cor Comedenti. That's Latin for 'heart eater'. A demon that usually resides in damp, cold places and normally lives on a nocturnal schedule. Huh . . ."_

"What?" said Dean.

_"Well, according to this book that I got from your father, Cor Comedenti was orginally where the myth of the vampire started. They're known as cousins in the terms of demon talk. Except, well, blood is usually the appetizer."_

"And the heart's the main course," said Dean. "Any clues on finding and killing them?"

_"Hang on," _said Bobby. Sounds of shuffling paper. "_Okay. Finding them would be tricky since they can make themselves look like any other human. You can only kill one under the full moon because it forces the demon to break from its human skin and into its real form. Only then can you kill it, otherwise it will find another human to take control of."_

"Always the full moon. These demons got nothin' going for originality," said Dean. "So basically this thing is like a shapeshifter."

_"Apart from the fact that it can't just change forms whenever it wants to and it needs an actual person to take control of. Just make sure you get this thing cornered on the next full moon and that it doesn't get to its next host. Typical silver dagger to the heart should do."_

"Full moon, make sure it doesn't get another host, silver dagger. Got it."

"_Oh, and Dean?" _said Bobby, just in time before Dean hung up.

"Yeah?"

A pause.

_"I'll tell Jack I contacted Kat and that she's with you two and safe. That will give him a great big heap of comfort."_

Dean didn't say anything.

_"Take care of her."_

Dean looked like he was about to look back at me in the mirror yet again, but stopped himself. He shifted his weight in his seat and continued to frown out on the open road.

"I always do."

.

It was pathetic that I was living up to the saying 'don't cry over spilled milk', but at the sight of the white substance spilling over the table surface, I just wanted to break down and bawl my eyes out.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Here," said Sam, handing me a paper towel. He had obviously noted that I looked on the verge of a breakdown and was looking at me with those soft green eyes, filled with concern. I felt like a child being comforted by a parent over a trivial matter.

"Thank you," I said weakly, reaching out to take the napkin and wiping up the mess, God, I was so pathetic. I couldn't even keep my game together when the time called for it most. I took in a great breath of air in attempt to clear my system.

I wasn't normally this klutzy, but my mind wasn't in the present. I was still thinking back to the phone call in the car and trying to ignore its affect it had on me. Most of what Bobby said I already knew, for I spent an entire year trying to figure out what demons had my certain traits. Cor Comedenti. Everything was spot on, apart from needing a host. Though my situation was a lot different, so the attributes varied.

What bothered me most was that Sam and Dean were now sitting down at my kitchen table and they were completely oblivious to the fact that the thing they were hunting down was sitting across from them.

"Good burger," said Dean with his mouth full. "Serioushly. When did you become sucsh a meat head?"

He had accidentally spit a few flecks of meat onto the table and his cheeks were stuffed full of food.

Sam gave him a disgusted look.

"Will you swallow so you don't look like a damn chipmunk?" Sam said irritably.

Dean gave an enormous swallow and belched, patting his chest appreciatively.

"You're disgusting," said Sam.

"Ah, c'mon. You don't mind, do you, Kit-Kat?" said Dean, taking his own napkin and cleaning up the flecks of meat. "We used to have burping contests all the time as kids."

"Well, that was when you were kids. See, usually for people once we reach adulthood, there's this thing called maturity," said Sam in the tone that suggested he was explaining to a toddler that one plus one equals two.

Dean scowled.

"Tight ass," he muttered, taking another large bite of his burger.

_Jeeze, they haven't changed at all, _I thought. _They still bicker harder than ever._

Dean glanced at my plate where my burger remained untouched. He swallowed another mouthful of food.

"You gonna eat?" he asked.

"Not that hungry," I said with a meek smile. Dean frowned. I got up before they could say anything else. "It's been a long day. Think I'm gonna turn in early. You okay for setting up the couch bed by yourself?"

Hesitantly, Dean nodded, watching me closely.

"Great. Tomorrow I'll show you around town, but you pretty much saw everything today. S'not that big. We can start the hunt then. Night."

They both looked slightly taken aback by my sudden dismissal. I scooched my chair back under the table and turned to leave without another word. I escaped into my bedroom, shutting the door tightly behind me. I leaned against it for a second, bowing my head slightly so my hair curtained over the sides of my face. I swallowed and heaved a great breath.

I changed quickly into my PJ's and brushed my teeth frantically, fiercely avoiding my reflection while doing so. After washing my face and putting my hair up in the messy bun I favored, I exited back into my bedroom and jumped into bed. I pulled the covers up to my chin, like a child that feared of monsters under the bed.

But the monster wasn't under the bed. It was here, inside me. Breathing. Clawing. Daring to exist in my body. Sharing my blood and soul. I could feel it; I could always feel it. Existing like a screen beneath my surface, but no one could see it because the door was closed. I feared for the moment that door would open.

I stared up at the wooden ceiling, my toes curling up against the arid sheets and clutching the covers tightly to my face.

In all honesty, I wanted to cry like a child and feel the sweet, terrible release. Oh, I have cried. I've cried so hard I didn't think I'd be able to stop. But I never felt any stronger from doing so, so I forced myself not to anymore. I needed strength for this. If I didn't have that, then I had nothing.

I turned to my side, my eyes adjusting to a picture sitting on my nightstand. I hadn't even thought of it until now. It was a photograph of Dean, Sam, and me. It was taken when Dean was sixteen, Sam, twelve, and me, thirteen. I reached for it, rolling onto my back and looking up at it. My fingers brushed the cool surface of the glass, over Sam and Dean's young faces.

This was taken by my father when he had taken us to our first ever carnival. I remember how excited I was when my dad drove us from the musty motel room while John was away on a hunting trip. He had awoken all three of us extra early and just told us we were going on a trip.

I had tried my first piece of cotton candy that day and squealed in surprise and excitement when the content had disappeared in my mouth and quickly made Dean and Sam try a piece.

The picture was of us in front of a carousel with giant sticks of pink cotton candy in our hands. I was perched atop Dean's back in piggy-back style with my arms tightly wrapped around his neck. Dean had his arms around his brother who was standing in front of him. All of our faces were frozen in laughter at some long forgotten joke.

I felt my eyes burn. I took a shaky breath and was about to put it back when there was a knock on the door. I almost dropped the photo. I half considered just pretending to be asleep, but considered this a very bitchy thing to do.

"Yeah?" I called, my voice wavering but not cracking.

"It's Dean. I want to talk to you."

* * *

**Bada bing, bada boom. Hope you liked and that I still have all my followers ha. Please, if you liked, leave a review. It lets me know that people are actually reading and enjoying my work. They are also extremely motivational:) thanks again.**


	4. Big Brother to the Rescue

FOUR: Big Brother to the Rescue

_**12 years ago**_

_I was panting heavily, clutching the stitch in my side as I heaved myself over the side of the hill. I collapsed upon the dusty terrain, blinking in the blinding light of the sun._

_"You're not giving up yet are ya', Kit-Kat?"_

_I turned to see Dean climb what seemed effortlessly up the same hill and walk up beside me, grinning down at me with ill-disguised smugness._

_"I was still here first," I retorted._

_"Cause I _let _you," he smirked._

_"Where's Sam?" I asked, jumping to my feet and taking a large sip from my water bottle._

_"We're all here," said my father, stepping out from behind some brush, followed closely behind by John and Sam. I noted Sam was walking with a slight limp and ran up to him._

_"What happened?" I asked heavily, quickly looking from my father to John. I had always considered the them my two fathers since they were the ones who raised me since birth. John was just as important to me as any other blood relative._

_"Sam got his foot stuck in a root and twisted his ankle," said John flatly. I looked at Sam in surprise. I was expecting something much more dire and it wasn't a mystery to me as to why John seemed so disappointed; he had raised his boys to be the top notch demon hunters and the fact that his son had been defeated by a flimsy root was disconcerting._

_"M'alright," Sam muttered, looking down at his sneakers._

_"Of course you are," said Jack. "We're about to hunt down a demon in the mountains of New Mexico; we can't afford for you _not _to be alright."_

_Sam swallowed._

_"C'mon. We're almost there," said John._

_I gave Sam a tender smile who looked too embarrassed to return it. I took his hand in mine and we trudged forward, climbing over rocky surfaces and being careful to avoid any cactus's. Being a year older than Sam, I had acquired same elderly sister attributes toward him and thought it my duty to protect and shelter him._

_"Almost there," said John in a lowered tone. "Keep your voices down."_

_Almost immediately we all started taking less weight off our steps so as to quiet down. I felt Sam squeeze my hand and I squeezed back reassuringly._

_A moment later my father crept towards me and put a hand on my shoulder. He placed something in my hand and I raised a silver dagger._

_"Just in case," he said quietly. "You and Sam are here just to watch, understand? You do _not _attack unless of an emergency. Leave the fighting to John, Dean, and me."_

_I frowned at him._

_"But I've gone on hunting trips with you before," I protested. "I've killed demons."_

_"Katarina," he warned. I stiffened. I knew all too well that my father meant business when he addressed me by my full name._

_I nodded._

_"Good girl."_

_He stalked off beside John and Dean while Sam and I lagged behind._

_"Don't worry. I got your back if anything happens," I said to Sam in a hushed tone as we approached a clearing._

_"I don't need your protection, Kat," he said. He didn't sound angry, just logical. I bit my cheek nervously._

_We all came to a screeching halt when John raised his hand up, signaling us all to stop. I craned my neck around a pinon tree, trying to catch sight of anything. There was a slight _clunk _and I almost jumped. It sounded like someone - some_thing _was throwing stacks of wood around._

_Jack and John exchanged looks, then indicated us forward. Careful to avoid the pine needles so our footsteps would be soundless, we crept through the bushes. However, we hadn't taken so much as two steps when John's figure was swept off the ground and went hurling through the air. I choked back on a surprised scream. Jack leaped forward into the clearing with Dean on his heels. John hit the ground with a painful _thump_, but was on his feet almost at once._

_I caught sight of the demon, clutching the dagger tightly between my fingers and shielding Sam behind me. The demon's skin was a complexion of horrid, sick gray, its back hunched over and arms irregularly long and slumped, dragging on the ground like some sort of caveman. It had a prominent underbite, large fangs sticking out at odd angles from its purple shaded lips. With its screwed up and ugly face, pointed ears, black spots on its balded head, it reminded me of a stereotypical goblin._

_It made an angry swipe towards my father who backed up just as he drew his own dagger as Dean did the same._

_"Watch out for the claws!" I heard John shout. "They're poison afflicted!"_

_"Whoa!" Dean exclaimed, just narrowly dodging another furious swing by somersaulting beneath the its legs and landing it perfectly. The demon turned in confusion and instinct shot through me. I saw a chance and every voice in my body was telling me to take it._

_"Kat! What are you -!" Sam shouted as I suddenly hurled all my weight forward and pounced upon the demon, dagger raised in my hand and prepared to strike. _

_But the demon had much more acute senses than I presumed. It whirled around when I was in mid-air and I felt a painful something come in contact with my side and sent me soaring through the air. I hit something painfully solid and heard a few of my ribs crack. I had hit a massive boulder. All air ceased to exist in my lungs as I let out a strangled cry, bending over and clutching my sides._

_In an instant, the demon advanced upon me and I felt its vise-like grip around my throat, actually lifting me off my toes. I struggled but I had dropped my weapon when I was hit and had no more means of defense. My legs kicked uselessly beneath me as the abomination opened its abnormally large mouth, revealing several dozen rows of sharp teeth, much like a great white shark._

_What a horrible last sight._

_Then, with a sickening _SPLINCHING _sound, its black eyes widened slightly as its grip loosened around my neck and I fell to the ground, my ankle scraping against a sharp rock. Something splattered across my face and when I touched it, I realized it was the demon's black blood. I raised my head to see what happened._

_The demon had a blade stabbed right through its heart from the back. I could see the tip of the now blood-covered dagger peek through its chest. It collapsed to the ground, revealing a particularly furious Dean._

_I stared up at him, my hand resting on my ribs and fighting to breathe._

_"Dean, I - " I started._

_"Shut up," he said, bending down to rip the blade out of the demon. It was splattered with thick, tar-like blood._

_The two words hit me with the force of a pillow filled with bricks. I looked towards my father who's face was beet red with anger. John's face was similar. Sam' was the only one who showed any concern. I looked back up at Dean._

_"I thought I could - "_

_"Thought you could, what? Do it on your own?" Dean shouted, making me cringe. "You're a stupid twelve-year-old! You don't know how to _do _these things! Your dad told you not to attack the demon and you know what? You shoulda' listened to him! You could have just died!"_

_I was rendered speechless. I felt tears of shame burn in my eyes as I just laid there, my body aching with pain. I bowed my head so he wouldn't see them._

_"I'm sorry," I murmured._

_"Sorry doesn't cut it," he growled. He was suddenly down upon me and grabbed my shoulders, shaking me so fiercely that my head wobbled up so I looked at him. He suddenly pulled me closely to him, my body pressed flat up against his as his arms wrapped tightly around my body. I was so small compared to him yet he was holding onto me as if afraid I was going to float up in the sky and disappear. It took me a few painstakingly fearful moments to realize that he was hugging me._

_"Do you think that there's no one here who would be _heartbroken _if you died!? You can't _DO _that, Kat!"_

_I trembled in his hold, a silent tear falling down my cheek. His voice was wavering on the edge of breaking._

_Letting down Dean was like letting down no other, even my own father. He was my idol since a very young age. I had always aimed to be like him, be brave like him. _

_I hated how he could make me out to be some naive and foolish child. But I hated it even more when he showed how true that actually was._

_"I don't know what to tell you," I said hopelessly, some strength regaining in my voice as I raised my head to meet Dean's olive green eyes that looked at me with so much anger and pain._

_"Tell me you won't do that agin. And not just me," he added, his tone lowering slightly but still with a definite edge of anger. He let me go and my arms fell limply to my sides. My eyes landed on my father who was walking up to Dean and me._

_"I am so disappointed in you, Kat," he said quietly. Yet I flinched as if he had yelled and realized I would have preferred that. This cold disappointment was enough to make cold snakes of guilt gnarl themselves inside my stomach._

_He didn't say anything else and I guessed it was because Dean had said it all already. Sam rushed forward past his brother and Jack._

_"Are you okay?" he asked. I gave a slight sniff and wiped my eyes._

_"Yeah."_

_Same offered his hand and with a slight pause, I took it. I almost stumbled over; I was shaking so badly._

_"Let's go," said Jack._

* * *

**What did you think of the flashback? Unnecessary? Too long? Boring? Interesting? Do you want more? Should I make one chapter per memory, or never do it again? Seriously, I'm open to suggestions. Any others are welcome, too.**

**Tell me your thoughts my little lemon drops;)**


	5. Tears of the Demon

**I just want to leave a quick note. I will be updating every few reviews, and no I'm not one of those writers who wants ten reviews of praise otherwise they will never update their 'high and almighty story'. It tells me that you guys are actually enjoying and that I'm not just writing these in vain lol I don't want to write if no one is enjoying it D: critical advice is welcome, too! I'm open to any advice you have to offer!**

**So, if you _are _enjoying, make sure and tell me;)**

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FIVE: Tears of the Demon

I pulled the door open, revealing Dean leaning against the doorframe, his eyes calculating.

"What would you have done if the door swung in your direction instead?" I asked.

"I'm too cool for anything to happen to me. Objects around me simply comply to my awesomeness," he said with a straight face.

"Right," I snorted. "Where's Sam?"

"Still eating," he said, glancing over my shoulder before meeting my eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Reading," I responded.

"In the dark?" he asked skeptically, eyebrows raising.

"I've been eating a lot of carrots," I said.

"Not with the stock in your fridge. By the look of things I would've guessed you owned a freakin' slaughterhouse nearby or something."

I leaned my head against the side of the door, my fingers twiddling with the doorknob.

"Pushing that mental image aside, do you want something?" I questioned.

He stood up straight, adjusting the collar of his jacket.

"Yeah. I wanted to talk to you."

"What about?" I asked, a small trickle of fear flickering within me as I shifted nervously.

The corners of his lips twitched sardonically.

"Can you permit a weary traveler entrance to your domain?" he asked sarcastically.

"Please, but can thou keep their visit short? This damsel is heavy in the eyes," I said, backing up to allow him entrance. He smiled slightly before sliding in past me.

I switched on the lights and shut the door, turning to find him inspecting the attributes of the bedroom.

"Nice," he complimented, pressing his hand softly upon the tempurpedic mattress. His eyes caught sight of the photograph on the nightstand that was slightly askew since I had put it back down in a hurry.

"Hey," he laughed, reaching for it. "I remember this. Dad was down in Washwile and Jack was looking after us for a few days. Woke us all up at seven in the morning and said we were goin' on a trip. I remember thinking it was just some hunting trip until we saw the huge 'carnival' sign." He chuckled softly. "I remember how excited Sammy was. He was bouncing up and down on his feet like he just mixed coffee with RedBull."

He glanced at me, eyes frowning at my expression. He placed the photograph back down and turned to me.

"So, Kit-Kat," he said, sitting down at the head of the bed. "_Why so serious?"_

"You're not going to get any answers out of me if you quote Batman," I said, sliding onto the foot of the bed and crossing my legs Indian style.

"Alright, Miss Grumpy," he said matter of factly. "If you don't want to break the ice slowly, I'll come out with it. I want to know what's up with you."

I frowned at him in confusion.

"Up with me?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, unconvinced by my innocent tone. "When I last saw you when you were . . . Ah, hell. Eighteen? Seventeen? You actually genuinely cared for people. Now when we come stumbling upon each other after six years, it seems like you couldn't give two shits for any lives that might be lost to this demon."

God, he was so good at making me feel bad. But I wasn't a kid anymore; I didn't let him have the same affect on me now as I had when I was a child.

"This demon's been killing _cows," _I pointed out. "There hasn't been any humans being hurt. I would have known and it would have been dead by now."

"See, that's not you," he said with so much confidence that my skin crawled with slight irritation. Someone telling me what I was, and what I wasn't was always a sore point with me. "You would figure out whatever it was to really make sure that people were safe. You would never 'assume' that everything is okay. You'd hunt this thing down and _make _sure."

"What do you want from me, a monologue?" I asked angrily. "I don't know what to tell you, Dean. A lot changes in six years. I can't be the same person you used to know."

His expression didn't faze.

"So you stopped saving lives?" he pressed.

"God, no, Dean . . ." I said, my voice lowering. How was it possible for one person to annoy another so easily? He hit me where it hurt. A power he had always had over me.

I breathed in a heavy sigh, scratching my arm absently.

Dean waited with apparent patience, watching me closely with those green eyes that scanned me up and down. I didn't like the way his gaze felt on me; it made me feel as if he could squeeze out my answers just by looking at me.

"You _have _changed," he agreed when I said nothing. "And yeah, nothing stays the same after six years. But not all your changes are good, Kat."

I met his eyes, my mouth parted slightly.

"You used to be this . . . I dunno. Girl with so much life. You smiled all the time, you . . ." he trailed off, swallowing awkwardly. I could tell this was causing him a great deal of effort. He shook his head. "I just want to know what's bothering you. You can tell us."

'Us', not 'me', because saying the latter would make it too personal, and even if I knew Dean Winchester since birth, that was something he was too scared to do.

"Nothing is bothering me, Dean," I said, shifting my position so I sat on my knees instead. "I told you; it's just a bad time."

"Yeah, but _why _is it a bad time? Just lay it on me, Kat. I know when you're hiding something."

"Look, if this is all you want to talk about then you and your brother can just get in the car and leave," I said, suddenly flaring up and feeling red patches of anger appear on my cheeks. I was absentmindedly digging my nails into my ankles and instantly released them.

He stared at me, eyebrows pushing together.

"What's wrong with you?" he demanded. "You're not you anymore. You would never do this."

The strength that I'd worked up for so long to contain my tears was waining slightly. I bit down on my breath, lowering my head and trying with all my willpower to stop the waterworks. My eyes were swimming with tears, but I didn't permit them to fall.

_That's because I'm a demon, Dean, _I thought miserably, almost wishing I could shout these words at him. _I'll never be that girl you knew. I'll never have a genuine smile again. Just leave before you find out. Leave me to die alone._

"Kat?"

Dean's voice crumbled into my thoughts. I raised my head, my hand clamped over my mouth. He stared at me, obviously perplexed at what to do.

"What the hell's happened to you?" he said quietly.

I must have looked so weak to him . . .all my life I have worked so hard to be just like my role model and idol, Dean Winchester.

I wasn't like that anymore, though. I had become my own woman in the years of living with just my father. Though don't me wrong. Dean had never looked down upon me like some sort of simpleton that was expected to bow before him. He had generally treated me with equality within the group and thought me capable of carrying my own weight. That was one of the many reasons why I loved Dean; he knew full well I was capable of taking care of myself.

"Dean. I'm so tired," I said quietly. He thought of course, that I was talking about sleepiness, yet I didn't bother to correct him.

He watched me with those furrowed brows. Dean was no good on the comfort level, but I do remember many times as children he would hug me closely to him whenever there was a lightning storm roaring outside and our fathers were away. I was afraid of lighting as a child but always knew Dean's shoulder wasn't too far to lean on.

Those days seemed like a million years ago. I would do anything to get them back.

I leaned forward and buried my face in the crease of his neck and shoulder, wanting nothing more than to collapse. He stiffened slightly at my touch, and I imagine I must have felt alien to him after so long. Yet after a small pause, he placed an awkward hand on my back and patted it comfortingly.

I was so exhausted. So tired of life. I didn't understand its twists and turns. I just wanted things to go back to how they used to be. But that was impossible. So terrible impossible.

Dean retracted slightly, enough so that he could place two fingers under my chin and lift my face to his. He stared at me with that frown that was so hard to decipher.

"Tell me what's wrong." It wasn't a question.

I swallowed the bitter tang of bile, my sad, tired eyes lifting to meet his. I bit my cheek and felt my body lean towards Dean again, but I wouldn't permit myself to fall.

I breathed in deeply, hoping to clear my system. Instead I got a powerful, masculine aroma that protruded from Dean. The scent was so intoxicating that for a moment - a single moment - all else was wiped from my brain. Where was this coming from? I took in a another breath and was just as captivated as the first time.

God, what _was _it? It was like everything and anything I've ever wanted was transformed into a scent and overpowering my senses and body. My breath caught and I stared at Dean with wide eyes who's expression turned quizzical.

My eyes swerved onto his throat, hot and exposed to me. The smell was definitely coming from him. There was nothing like it. The most powerful allure that could possibly exist to any creature, and Dean was practically beckoning me towards him.

_Just a taste. Just a drop . . ._

But in a matter of seconds, I recoiled in horror, my eyes widening past their frame.

"Kat, what - "

Oh, God, _no._

I got up from the bed, clutching a hand over my nose and mouth and the other over my stomach. I was going to throw up.

I was about to . . .with Dean.

Of course, I had never been around another human that closely before in the past year, so I never got the true fume of what their blood might smell like. I had settled for the cattle in the fields or raccoon and deer in the forest.

But it was nothing compared to what I had just smelled off of Dean. Pure ecstasy. Life throbbing in those veins.

"Please leave," I choked.

"Kat, I want to know what the hell is going on!" Dean said angrily, getting to his feet.

Fuck, I couldn't do this. He just had to stay away. I was so disgusted with myself! I couldn't believe I was actually imagining doing . . ._that._

"Dean, please! I have to sleep! I'm so tired."

"Not until you tell me what is going on," he said.

"Dean, please," I begged, hoping a look of vulnerability would sway him. Anger never worked that much well with Dean as I had grown to realize. "Please, I promise I'll tell you. Please just leave.""

Dean's expression remained the same, but I saw his eyes soften. His mouth twitched as if to say something, but he just shook his head. He gave me one last look before walking to the door and opening it and striding out, closing it tightly behind him.

The smell still lingered as well as the desire. I hurtled into the bathroom and made it to the toilet just in time. I was sick for well over twenty seconds, the tears dribbling down my nose and landing in the toilet bowl.

When finished, I collapsed on the bathroom floor, curling in a ball and hugging my knees to my chest. My mouth still had the horrid taste of vomit, but I wouldn't raise to get a glass of water.

I pressed my face to the bathroom floor, wishing I was strong enough to keep the tears back. I wasn't. By God, I wasn't strong enough.

So I wept, wallowing in self pity and begging to a god of whom I wasn't even sure existed to give me an answer. An answer to anything. Anything at all. Because every question was a problem for me and they all lingered without those answers.

And yet I knew somehow deep inside me even if I kept on begging Dean and Sam to leave, no matter how much I knew it was the best thing to do, no matter how much more pain would be spared, I never, ever wanted them to leave me again.

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**When I started this chapter, I really wasn't it expecting it to end that way ha. Well, I hope I'm doing okay. I'm really nervous about posting this lol I'm trying to get more on the sensitive side of Dean that what is generally shown in the show without breaking his character. Cause, hey, he knows Kat as a baby sister and we all want to protect our baby sisters.**

**Penny for your thoughts, lemon drops?**


	6. Secret to Continually Bear

**You guys rock. I was out for a few days since I was traveling and low and behold I return to find the greatest reviews. You guys make writing these chapters worthwhile for me.**

**As I have just returned from an exhausting traveling day from my first visit to NYC, I am not going to delay the story any longer!**

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SIX: Secret to Continually Bear

I turned the shower handle all the way to the left. The hot water plastered against my face and cheeks that were raw from the salty, dried tears. As much as I still disliked the feeling of heat, it still seemed to have the same purifying effect as it did for me before. Soon the water reached boiling point but I didn't move, merely watching my arms turn red in the stream of the water.

Resting my head upon the tiles wall, I breathed in the steamy air and tried to clear my system.

Get your head on, girl. You don't have time to fall apart. You have to prove, no, _show _Sam and Dean that there's nothing wrong. You may not be the same girl they knew, but by God that doesn't mean you can't act like it.

No more crying. Time to put on my big girl suit and forget all my problems, for Sam and Dean's sake if not mine.

I raised my head and shook it profusely, splashing my face. I gurgled some of the water to get the remaining taste of the vomit out of my mouth from the previous night.

After a few minutes I drew back the shower curtain and stepped out. Wiping my naked body with a towel, I approached the mirror that was fogged up with steam. I wiped away the condensation in circular motions and stared back at my reflection. My eyes remained their hazel shade. Originally, I had been born with light brown eyes, but over the years some streaks of mossy green peeked through.

I brushed my teeth fiercely, then afterward using some Crest mouthwash.

I had spent the entire night on the bathroom floor, too tired to move after the tears I shed. Not today. Today I was going to spend time with the Winchester brothers and 'help' them hunt down a demon. What I was going to do about the latter, I didn't know.

I dressed quickly, ignoring attendance to my appearance. Lately I haven't had time for things like makeup or styling my hair. In fact, most of my entire life I never had time to care about vanity; I had been raised fully around all hunter boys and really never had anyone to impress.

I had barely even gotten around having a boyfriend. Constantly being monitored by my father and John made such things impossible.

I didn't even have my first kiss until I was fourteen, but that was with Sam so it hardly counted.

I exited my room. It was still early out; the sun had barely risen and only just downed out the early periwinkle morning color. From the distance, I could hear the bullfrogs croak sleepily and the crickets' songs finally fade.

From the pull out couch, I could hear a distant snoring sound that indicated Dean was still fast asleep. I peered around the head of the couch that concealed him. He was on his side, eyes softly closed and mouth open from which he emitted another loud snore. He was hugging a pillow tightly to his chest and looked perfectly content and peaceful.

I smiled slightly. Dean's unconscious face showed innocence as well as vulnerability that he would never allow anyone to see when awake. It was almost childish, probably due to the fact that sleeping took off all his features of stress.

I reached out and touched his unshaven face with the tips of my fingers, then having them trail up to brush aside a hair out of his closed eyes. He shifted slightly, lips smacking together, but did not awake.

I breathed out my nose and retracted my hand, turning to enter the kitchen. I got out several bowls and pans along with a bag of flour and other various ingredients.

I grabbed my iPod from its charger and put in the ear plugs, shuffling my music and mixing the ingredients together in the plastic bowl.

Doing simple stuff like this made me feel—well—human. It was comforting. Even if it was temporary, I took what I could get.

I hummed softly under my breath, swaying my hips to the right and the left as I poured the batter from the bowl into the pan.

"_If you're having girl problems, I fell bad for you, son. I got ninety-nine problems but a bitch ain't one," _I sang.

So, I was dreadful singer. Still, it was another way to make me feel normal, however untrue that may be.

I flipped the pancake, patting it down with my spatula.

"Whoa, nice moves."

I turned to see Sam standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling in amusement. I took out a ear bud and smirked.

"You're jealous," I said, turning back to the pan and scooping out several of the pancakes out onto a large plate and turning to make more.

"Very," Sam laughed. I stiffened slightly as e walked up next to me, taking another pan from the cupboard. I was terrified of experiencing the same sensation as I did last night with Dean. I breathed only through my mouth and returned Sam's smile meekly.

"Does it look like I'm going to let you help me?" I teased, trying to take the pan from Sam's grasp, but he had much longer arms than me and extended it away from me. "This is my big 'I'm Sorry' breakfast, I continued, making another grab for it.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he said, completely effortlessly keeping the pan out of my reach.

"Yes there is," I protested, going up on my tippy toes as he raised his arms high above him. Teh pan nearly grazed the ceiling. Jesus, had he gotten _taller!? _"I'm the worst house host, after _six _years."

"You're going through some stuff," he said, now hiding the pan behind his back as I tried to do a sort of climb up his body to reach it. "Stuff with your dad. I get it. You don't need to pretend everything's okay."

Going through some stuff. That was a way to put it.

"Even so," I grunted as his large hand panted across my face as I attempted to grab behind him. I merely walked in place, my socks sliding across the kitchen floor.

"You're really determined, aren't you?"

"Gimme the pan, Sam."

"No."

He released me, and I scowled up at him.

"Fine. But you get the princess plate," I said, raising a warning finger at him and indicating the pink, plastic saucer that had a slightly worn out picture of Cinderella plastered across it. The woman who owned this house had a young daughter.

"Fair enough," he chuckled.

He heated up the pan on the stove and started cracking eggs into it as I cooked the sausages.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked after a few moments.

I glanced at him sideways.

"Yeah, why?"

"You sound like you have a head cold," he said.

Probably because I wasn't breathing through my nose.

"Maybe I caught something," I said, shrugging. He flipped the eggs, soon after shredding some cheddar cheese over them.

"Dean wasn't too hard on you, was he?" he inquired, chancing a concerned glance at me. "I asked him not to go into your room last night, but, uh, being Dean . . ."

"He just wanted to know what was bothering me," I said, looking determinately at the sausages. "You guys deserve an answer, yeah?"

"Not if you don't want to tell us," he assured me. "I mean, yeah. I want to know if anything is wrong and if I can help. We've had each other's backs since before we could walk. I know if it was something really dire you would tell us."

I didn't say anything.

"Omelets are ready," hew said after a few moments. He glanced down into my pan. "Kat. You're burning the sausages."

"Oh."

I scooped them out onto the plate.

"Think this is enough?" I asked forcefully.

"Unless Dean grew four more stomachs, which is not a completely crazy idea, then I think we're fine," said Sam with a slight smile.

Good ol' Sam. Smart enough to know when something is wrong, but kind enough not to press. I was suddenly reminded of why I loved him so much.

"Speaking of things with four stomachs, when are we planning on hunting down our cow blood-drinking friend?" asked a voice.

Dean walked into the kitchen, looking much more rested than the previous day but looking bitter about something. He glanced between Sam and me, arched an eyebrow, then seated himself down at the kitchen table.

"You know, I've been thinking about that," said Sam, taking the platter of food and placing it in the center of the table as I grabbed three more plates. "You mentioned Bobby said that this thing, Cor Comedenti, liked living in cold areas."

"Yeah?" said Dean, piling his plate with pancakes, eggs, and sausage.

"Well, we're in Southern Louisiana. In the summer. Why would something like that be in an area like this?" continued Sam as he sat beside his brother as I took the chair opposite them. "It's like it's—_trying _to hide."

Dean paused in mid bite of his egg, frowning at his fork.

"Like it knows something is hunting it down," he said slowly.

"But we have only been here for a few days, meaning that something was hunting it down before," said Sam, taking a smart bite of pancake.

"Also, if this thing lives off blood why would it come all the way down to lone-ass Dry Prong? You'd think it'd want to get into a more populated area where more goodie-goodies are walking 'round."

"But Dean, if this thing is killing cows, we shouldn't have to kill it. And don't give me that 'a demon's a demon' crap again."

"And we can't just leave a demon wandering around all willy nilly, either. If something had been hunting it down before, then there was some reason it had to hide."

"Could've been just another hunter thinking along the same lines as we used to; it's a demon."

"We're not going to go all saint-like to demons whenever we get the chance, are we?" groaned Dean.

Sam looked as though he refrained an eye-roll.

"No, Dean. But I don't think we should just charge forward killing things blindly when it doesn't need killing."

Dean shrugged, smothering his pancakes with a generous amount of syrup.

"Whatever, man. Let's just focus on finding it first." He took an astronomical bite of food that ensued him giving an enormous swallow. He glanced at me. "You're very quiet."

"Thinking of where I'm going to take you guys today," I said casually. "Let's see. You've seen the gas station already, so that concludes about eighty-five percent of the town."

Dean snorted into his food.

"Sorry I don't live in a more exciting area," I said.

"Yeah, because blood-drinkng demons result in boring in my book." He paused. "It's sad that I actually mean that."

At least he didn't seem too mad about last night. In fact, he was particularly 'not mad'.

"By the by, thanks for breakfast," said Dean, dabbing the end of his sausage into ketchup.

"Thank Sam, too. He insisted that he helped me."

"How dare he," said Dean, looking between the pair of us. "Sam, why don't you bump up the research and find out everything there is to know about Cor Comedenti while Kat gives me the grand tour?"

Sam paused, frowning at his brother.

"Why am I always the research guy?" he asked.

"Cause you're the dork," said Dean, as if it was obvious.

"And what does that make you?"

"The exceedingly handsome hero who kicks demon ass and always gets the girl."

As Sam rolled his eyes, I started coming to the conclusion that the reason being Dean wanted to get me alone was that he wanted to continue the interrogation from last night. Seems as though he hadn't gotten over it as much as I assumed.

A few minutes later, Dean changed into his usual attire and ushered me out the front door. I climbed into the passenger seat and braced myself as Dean started the car and drove down the driveway.

"Where to first?" he asked.

I frowned, expecting the first thing to come out of his mouth to be a confrontational comment.

"What do you want to see?"

"You're the tour guide here. I'm just here for the ride."

"Oh?" I said, arching a playful eyebrow as I smiled at him. "Does that mean I get to drive the Impala?"

"Not if you want to keep both of your hands."

"And you say girls are violent," I snorted. "Well, alright. The plaza. It's the majority of the town. Grocery store, shops—all that."

"You call the shots," he said. He paused, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and I guessed what was coming. I had promised to tell him, after all. But that was an attempt of desperation to get him out of my room. But again he proved me wrong.

"You and Sam seemed to be havin' a good time," he said.

I looked at him in surprise.

"Because cooking eggs together is really the most bonding experience," I said, smiling slightly as I looked at Dean stare at the road ahead. "You seem surprised."

"Yeah, well, you and Sammy have always been close," he said, shifting his weight in his seat. He glanced at me.

"Are you trying to indicate if I was closer to him than to you?" I asked, my eyebrows pushing together.

"No," he said flatly. Another pause. "You guys _are_ closer in age."

Why was he going on about this? This was most un-Deanly.

"You think that made me like you any less than I did with him?" I inquired, completely confused.

"I just remember you guys bein' tight. Not trying to make a big deal out of it. Just small talk."

Against my will, I snorted again.

"You make small talk with an acquittance, Dean. I'm one of the last people you should be trying to do that with."

"Six years makes a difference," he defended, glancing at me again.

"You think you don't know me anymore?" I asked.

Dean frowned out onto the road and I watched his finger twiddle against the wheel. A sign of nervousness?

"You're Kat," he said.

"Genius observation."

He casted a scowl toward me.

"What I mean is; you're still you, just with a few changes."

A few changes.

I shifted in my seat, crossing my arms and leaning against the window and staring out onto the grassy plains. Dean chanced another glimpse at me.

"And I've hit a sore point," he said.

"You always knew how to do that," I said, looking at him.

He looked back at the road and didn't respond.

So much for my optimistic speech earlier.

Once at the plaza, I tried to show Dean around but as time passed, he didn't really seem all that interested or wasn't listening and I couldn't understand why he would have me drag him all the way out here if he wasn't even going to pay attention. The entire time something seemed to be pressing on his mind and it was slightly irritating, though I knew some part of me was relieved he wasn't speaking his mind.

"Cool town. What's that?" he added as I returned with two ice cream cones of vanilla ice cream.

"Around here it's called ice cream," I said, attempting to hand him one. "I'm trying to turn that frown upside down."

He glanced from the cone to me, then shrugged and took it. We sat down on a nearby bench and sat in silence for a few moments.

"Dean," I said finally.

"Kat."

"Why did you really drive us out here?"

He frowned down at his ice cream.

"Glad you finally decided to talk about it," he said, looking at me sideways.

"You've been waiting for _me _to bring it up?"

"For the past hour."

It was my turn to frown.

"Way to waste our time," I said, raising my eyebrows.

"Well, believe it or not I'm trying to take a leaf out of Sam's book. He suggested something or another about waiting until you were comfortable with talking about it."

"I see."

There was an awkward pause.

"I'll help you find this demon," I said.

"Glad to hear it, but not exactly what I'm looking for."

"Why are you so determined to get this out of me?"

He arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because we're basically family and I was always looking after you and Sammy while the fathers were out. I'm used to doing shit like this. Sorry if my consideration isn't enough."

I felt a stab of guilt. He sounded angry.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. I awkwardly scratched the tip of my nose and shifted slightly. "It's my dad. I guess I'm just not the same since the fight. I've been careless and just sort of uncaring about most situations. That's why you came at the wrong time."

"That's another subject," he said, leaning slightly forward and looking intently into my eyes. "I'm sorry, Kat, about whatever happened. But whatever the hell it was wasn't a good enough excuse for you to run off. I guess just some part of me is really pissed off that you just left him like it was nothing when Sam and I spent the last two years looking for our father."

And there was that terrible, bubbling guilt that only Dean could make me feel.

"At least give me an idea of what the fight was about," he continued.

I sat back in my seat, pressing my lips together. I would tell him the truth. Or, at least, some of the truth.

"My father decided one year ago that he would tell me something," I said slowly, turning to face him. "Something about my mother."

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Something like what?"

I swallowed, closing my eyes and feeling the muggy, breeze brush against my face.

"I can't tell you."

Dean shifted in irritation.

"Another thing that bothers me is that you don't seem to have any trust in me," he said strongly, in a tone that made my eyes open and look at him again. "Don't you think we've been through enough together that we can spill all our secrets?"

"Like you said, it's been six years."

"You think you don't know me anymore?" he mimicked.

My mouth parted slightly.

Our relationship wasn't the same. This fact came pummeling into my subconscious with the force of a plow truck. Things _have _changed and it was one of the most nightmarish things I could have possibly imagined, even more than becoming a demon. And now there was no chance that it would be the same because I could never live amongst them while hiding one of the biggest secrets I've yet to wield.

What pained me further was that I was not the only one to realize this factor.

Dean exhaled, rubbing his face.

"I don't believe in coincidences, Kit-Kat," he said solemnly and for some reason, my heart wrenched at the nickname. "Sam and I came into town hunting down a demon and instead we find you. I don't what the hell you went through with your dad and I don't think it's a legitimate reason to run away, but hey," he added in glancing awkwardly down. "We've all been there. I wish you could just tell me what's going on, but it's obvious that's not going to happen anytime soon. As long as I'm here, I might as well fulfill my old title as big brother. Whatever is going on, I'll be here."

My eyes crinkled up as I smiled tearfully at him. Dean couldn't understand the reason as to why I would cry, but he also couldn't comprehend the amount of gratitude that was surging through me. Out of everything that I could find solace in, someone simply telling me that they were going to stay by my side proved to relieve me of a great deal of pain.

Before he could protest, I moved forward and hugged him tightly as if afraid he might disappear. Things might have changed, but I still loved Dean. I still loved both of them. That never really went away.

I must have not realized how much strength I was applying to the hug because suddenly Dean flinched and I withdrew quickly.

"Yow," he muttered, rubbing his sides. "Got stronger, did you?"

"Thank you," I whispered.

"That wasn't precisely a compliment."

I smiled.

"For the other part. You don't—_can't_ know what it means."

He looked slightly awkward, but nodded.

"Yeah. Now, I'm going to mosey over to my car before I lose anymore of my masculinity."

I got up and followed him. He gave me one last significant look before climbing into the driver's seat. His lips twitched as if to say something else, but he bit it back and rubbed his eyes. He climbed into the car along with me after him and we drove off.

* * *

**Tell me your thoughts, lemon drops?**


	7. Thoughts that Shouldn't Be There

**Hoping to ensnare my way slightly into Dean's little naughty mind in this chapter. You guys are awesome. Your support and praise makes this all worthwhile ;)**

**Tell me what you think, and I update? Deal? **

**Stay crazy, my little lemon drops.**

* * *

SEVEN: The Thoughts that Shouldn't Be There

_**10 Years Ago**_

_**Blue Falls, Wyoming **_

"_Have you ever kissed a girl?"_

_Sam looked up from his book, wide eyes set upon me._

"_W-what?" he stuttered._

_I shifted my weight further into the armchair, twirling one of my hairs absentmindedly. Sam and I were stuck in the small room of a Motel 6 while Dean had gone out to buy us dinner. Our fathers had been gone for little longer than two days, yet this generally was not a very long time to us. The most they had ever been gone was two weeks, but that was rare. _

_Sam was perched on one of the queen beds, laying flat on his stomach with his legs crossed in the air and pawning over a Sherlock Holmes book; his new favorite series. It wasn't even the first one in the series, yet Sam was never picky. We had picked it up for twenty-five cents at a yard sale before entering town._

"_Have you?" I asked._

_Sam's cheeks flushed a rusty red. _

"_Have _you _ever kissed a boy?" he demanded, choosing to answer my question with a question._

"_Nope," I said. He didn't look as though he expected me to answer so willingly._

"_Dean's kissed girls," he muttered. "He's kissed lots of girls."_

"_Dean is a lot older," I pointed out. "But I'm not talkin' about Dean. You just never seemed that—interested."_

"_There's more important things than kissing girls . . ." he mumbled, glancing awkwardly down at his book._

_A grin curled along my lips._

"_So that's a negative, isn't it?" _

"_Shut up," he grumbled._

"_Are you gay?"_

"_No!" _

_I let out a snort of laughter that soon rose to a guffaw._

"_You're the color of a fire truck!" I laughed._

"_And you laugh like a pig!" he shot back. _

_I lifted myself to my knees, leaning forward and grinning widely._

"_Don't you just want to get it over with?" I asked._

"_Get what over with?" said Sam, recovering himself._

_I cocked my head to the side and looked at him, wondering why my question wasn't obvious._

"_Your first kiss," I said softly. Just as quickly as Sam's color faded, it shine bright red again. "I know I wish I could."_

"_We aren't at a school long enough for me to get to know any girls," he said solemnly._

_I rolled my eyes._

"_You're not getting what I'm talking about, Sammy," I said. "You already know _me."

_He glanced up again._

"_What _are _you talking about?"_

_I jumped up off the armchair and flung myself next to Sam on the bed, making his book bounce off the mattress and onto the floor. Sam didn't take much notice but sat up a little straighter, looking over me with confusion._

"_Have your first kiss with me, Sam," I said. "Just to get it out of the way."_

_If he had been blushing before, it was nothing compared to now._

"_How can you just say that so easily!?" he spluttered._

"_It's not that big of a deal," I said, frowning. "And it's not like we have a lot of chances, anyway. I'm not asking you to marry me, Sammy. It's just a kiss."_

_Sam hesitated, running his tongue over his lips as he looked up at me. He shifted himself into a cross-legged sitting position, scratching the crown of his head._

"_What made you come up with this?" he asked._

_I shrugged. "I dunno. I'm really bored."_

_Sam scoffed. "You're doing this because you're bored?"_

"_Well, I'm sick of watching _Hey Arnold! _reruns. We don't have to make a big deal out of it. If you're that against it, then we don't have to."_

_Sam bit down on his lower lip, glancing towards the motel door, then back to me._

"_We don't have to tell Dean, do we?" he asked in a hushed tone._

_The corner's of my lips twitched at the sound of his brother's name._

"_I don't know why it would bother him, but we don't have to tell anyone. It can be out little secret."_

"_Dad says secrets are one of the heaviest things to bear," he said uncertainly._

"_Secrets are nothin'," I said, waving an impatient hand. "Besides, this is a little secret. Not a big one."_

_Sam didn't look overall reassured, but not entirely unconvinced. He shifted nervously so that he leaned slightly closer to me. I tried to give him a small smile but he seemed to be over thinking the situation too heavily to take in any notice. He released a shifty breath. _

_I was beginning to think if I didn't take the initiative, Sam would never make the first move. But to my surprise, Sam leaned feverishly forward and pressed his lips to mine. Due to my initial surprise at his sudden movements I really didn't have time to take in how the kiss really was, yet it barely lasted four seconds._

_The door opened hardly a millisecond after we had broken apart and we both turned. Dean stood in the open doorway, holding two plastic bags of Chinese takeout in each hand. His face had been arguably bright before his eyes landed on us. His expression hardened slightly as he arched a single brow._

"_And what are you crazy kids up to?" he asked airily._

"_Nothing!" Sam said too quickly. Dean glanced between the pair of us, hands suspended in taking out the cartons of takeout, brow arching further._

"_Totally," he said. His eyes met mine and I fought to keep my face straight; I was torn between looking guilty, and straining to keep in an eruption of laughter. "Well, noodles and fried rice for you, Sammy," he continued as if nothing had just happened, placing several of the cartons on the table. "And orange chicken and steamed rice for the Kit-Kat."_

"_Thanks," I said as Sam and I got off the bed and seated myself down at the table beside Sam._

_Sam kept glancing anxious looks over at his brother who was determinately not looking at the pair of us. _

"_So, um, how was your day?" I asked. Great way to break the tension._

"_Fine," said Dean with a shrug. There was no way he hadn't comprehended what was going on when he walked into the room. I wasn't sure how I felt about this, but Dean seemed determinately—almost forcibly—unaffected._

_Sam and I glanced at each other, then he shook his head and went back to his noodles._

_._

Dean knocked three times upon the bathroom door, scratching his nose. He heard the slight movement of water.

"I'm in the tub," he heard Kat say. He smirked, looking at the doorknob and leaning against the door frame. It had been four days since Sam's and his arrival at Kat's house and so far they had been able to avoid awkward naked intrusions, so it was bound to happen eventually.

"It's Dean," he said. He heard more shifting water and possibly a small sigh.

"I'll be out in a minute," she said.

Dean stayed in the same position for a few moments before turning to face the bedroom again. Strangely, it was practically clean of personal objects apart from the photo of Sam, Kat, and him at the carnival. However, something caught his eye that was laying on the nightstand placed on the right of the bed. He moved forward to further inspect it. It was an amulet, copper in color with strange symbols surrounding an eye that looked as though it were a real emerald. The eye almost resembled some Egyptian pictures he had seen before. He then remembered where he had seen this before. His father's journal held precise detail of an amulet that was the exact shade and shape of this one. Amun-Ray, he thought it was called. Meant to fend off possessions.

He reached for it, finding that it was unusually hot at the touch, as if it had been laying in the sun for hours. The chain slipped between his fingers as he frowned at the amulet. The jewel shimmered even if the light in the room was dim, like it had something living beneath its surface.

Why would Kat have an anti-possession amulet?

The bathroom door opened and Dean almost dropped the necklace. He turned to see Kat wrapped in a cream-colored towel, her dark hair hanging in wet locks along her shoulders. Her eyes found the amulet in his hands and frowned.

"Have something to tell us?" Dean asked in what he hoped to be a joking manner.

"I like to take precautions," she said stiffly.

"And these things carry a hefty price," he said, putting it back on the nightstand and turning to look at her again, eyes mistakingly examining how short the towel was. It was remarkable even after all this time she was still completely comfortable with flaunting her body in front of Dean and Sam. Of course, in the early years Dean had been the one to take a lot of the responsibility of Kat, even before Sam was born. When she was a toddler he had bathed her, clothed her, tried to force her to eat the baby food off the spoon even if she would fling it in his face.

Yet no matter how long they had known each other, there comes a certain point in life when age makes a difference and Kat could no longer just take a bath in front of them. He remembered plainly how defensive Jack and even John got around the time Kat went through puberty, perhaps thinking that either Sam and Dean were bound to take interest in Kat once she hit womanhood.

Dean bit back on the memory of walking in on Kat and Sam in that motel room where they—from what he assumed—had their first kiss. He had never questioned either of them for it, and as far as he was concerned, the topic had never been brought up again after it.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" asked Kat, picking up another towel and rubbing it against her hair in attempt to dry it and lifting her head to look at Dean.

In her movements, the towel had shifted slightly around her chest so that it exposed a larger portion of her breast. Kat didn't seem to notice, however. Or in any case, really didn't care.

"Um," said Dean, frowning slightly at the towel before forcing his gaze away. He cleared his throat and made himself meet Kat's eyes. "We have a lead. Sorta."

Kat froze in the action of going through her wardrobe. Her back was to him so he couldn't see her expression. After a few moments she pulled out a thin crimson T-Shirt and jeans.

"Good," she said.

"Good?"

"Yeah. What is it?"

He raised his eyebrows shortly.

"Keep in your excitement, Kit-Kat. You might pull a muscle."

She casted him a sideways smile.

"What am I supposed to say? We found the demon, be still my heart?"

He chuckled under his breath.

"Nah, we didn't actually find it, but something to help us. Sam's been researching on weaknesses and it turns out the only other way of exposing it, 'sides the full moon, is spreading this nasty elixir shit on its skin. Supposed to make its skin burn. Apparently harmless to humans."

She turned away from him again, and Dean couldn't help wonder if this was because she didn't want him to read her expression.

"What's this elixir include?" she inquired.

He laughed humorlessly.

"You don't wanna know," he said.

"That bad?"

"Holy water, eye of rat, ravens feathers, dessicated wolf semen—"

"Whoa, okay. You're right," she said, stopping him in his tracks and turning to face him, her face screwed up in disgust. The expression made her nose wrinkle which was nothing short of adorable. "So, what? Are we just going to spray this stuff all over the townspeople until we get a reaction?"

"That's plan 'A'," said Dean.

"And plan 'B'?"

"This thing is like a werewolf, yeah? Goes kinda crazy at the full moon."

Edgily, she nodded. Dean couldn't imagine why she was so tense.

"Three days away," she said, biting down on her lower lip and staring absentmindedly down at the floor.

"Well, think this thing could resist the smell of fresh, glorious human blood when it's in that kind of state?" he said airily.

Her eyes lifted up to his. It was impossible for Dean to read them, but he could have sworn he detected a hint of fear.

"You're going to . . . cut yourself?" she whispered.

"Well, you make it sound so emo. But yeah. As bait."

"Isn't that a little excessive?" she asked.

"For all we know, this thing is actually killing humans. I don't know about you, but I'm not willing to take that chance."

Kat didn't answer immediately and Dean furrowed his brows. He didn't understand her unwillingness to hunt down a demon. Whether it be hurting people or not, the Kat he knew was always willing and eager to take out the next supernatural creature in line. As he recalled, she would become angry and stubborn if her father ever thought she was incapable of a certain hunting trip. Kat was always particularly fierce when it came to killing demons, perhaps because it was a demon who had killed her mother hardly a month after her birth. Not anything like Yellow Eyes who had killed his own mom, but a common, every day black-eyed demon.

"Turn around, Dean," she said suddenly.

Dean scoffed.

"What? Did I somehow hurt your feelings now?"

"No. I need to change."

Dean opened his mouth, temporarily taken aback. He realized he had nothing to say, so closed it. He breathed out his nose and and turned to face the wall. He heard her towel hit the floor. He drummed his fingers awkwardly on his leg, eyes scanning the wooden wall merely just for something to do. His eyes accidentally landed on the vanity mirror which was placed opposite to where Kat was standing. Her back was facing him, which was perhaps fortunate because otherwise she would have noticed him.

He shouldn't be looking. He should have just looked away now. Even if Dean was typically a one night stand kind of guy, he did at least have some respect for the girl that had practically been brought up as his baby sister.

Though as they both agreed, six years was a big difference. People change. Kat had somewhat lost her little sister image and now took the stance of fully grown, independent woman. If nothing else, that certainly made Dean look upon her in a different light.

She was practically naked apart from a pair of blue striped underwear that was partially dampened from the water on her body. Her wet hair was just long enough to touch her shoulder blades which—when he looked closely enough—looked to have some sort of scars spread across them. Almost like scratches. This wasn't necessarily odd, though. Dean guessed it happened to her in the six years of his absence. Though he wasn't about to _ask _her.

A droplet of water released from her hair, traveling down to the dip of her back and then down to her hip where it ceased into her panties. She pulled on a black bra where it gave a short _snap _after she hooked it and it hit her skin.

God, what the hell was he doing?

Running his hand over his face, he forced himself to look back at the wall before he _really _regretted peeping in on her. He wouldn't put it past her if she delivered a right hook to his face if she had caught him.

"You can look now," she said.

Oh, good to know.

He turned to a now fully dressed Kat. Her hair was drying in soft waves that gave off the illusion that her hair was shorter than it was. He gave her a short smile which she dimly returned.

"Let's go," she said. "We can go to this diner that I know of and talk over the plans."

Dean nodded.

He also wouldn't mind having a bath as well. A cold one.


	8. Plans

EIGHT: Plans

I yanked as hard as I could against the chain. It stuck firmly to the wall, not budging an inch. I did it again yet with more strength. It stayed in place. I let out a breath, releasing the shackles and they fell to the floor with a loud thump. This should be enough to sustain me when the full moon comes, yet I was not entirely reassured. Last month I had tried the same tactic and I woke up in the middle of the woods in a pool of deer blood. I was glad at least that I still had some sense not to attack a human. The moon, from what I could tell from experience, left me in an odd trance, similar to the feeling you have when you dream. It also made me feel incredibly thirsty, like it dehydrated my entire body of any fluids. It was going to be even worse if Dean was going to go along with this plan of spilling his own blood to lure in the Cor Comedenti.

I would have used salt to entrap myself so ensure that I really couldn't go anywhere, but I had no idea how I was going to get myself out once the full moon was over. I couldn't ask the brothers for obvious reasons seeing as they might find it odd that I cannot walk over a line of salt.

And that was why I kept a pair of steel shackles attached to my basement wall. Two nights from now, I would be overcome by a sudden fever and Sam and Dean will have to hunt down the demon on their own while I remained chained in the basement. It was a horrible conclusion, but the alternative was even worse. What would happen if I was in Dean's presence when he drew his blade against the skin and saw the scarlet blood drip from the wound, not knowing that the thing he was trying to bait would be standing right next to him?

No. I wouldn't be there to find out.

I pulled once more against the chains until satisfied. My strength had increased to the heavens since a year ago. It was the only good thing that came out of this, yet I hardly any use for it now since I haven't been hunting in over a year.

"Kat, are you down there?" Sam called from upstairs.

"Yeah," I called back. I turned and walked up the creaky, wooden staircase. Sam awaited for me at the top of them, his expression somber. "Is everything alright?"

"Well, yeah," he said. "I, uh, just got a call from unknown number so I let the voice mail pick up."

"Okay," I said slowly. "Who was it?"

"Well, I listened to the first half of it. It's your father."

Somewhere inside me, my insides softly froze. I found myself unable to look away from Sam and felt my mouth turn dry.

"Bobby must have given him my number. I didn't listen to the rest of it," he assured me. "Do you want to hear it?"

I raised my head to stare out a nearby window. It was raining hard today. The pond that sat beside my house was overflowing slightly and the fluff of the beaten cattails was drifting over the surface of the water. As there was a crack of lightning, I turned to Sam and nodded.

With tender movements he dialed the voice mail and handed me the cell. I lifted it to my ear and walked unconsciously into the living room. Dean was out getting groceries so it was merely Sam and I sitting on the couch.

"_No new messages," _the robotic woman's voice said. "_First recorded message."_

The first few moments of the message no one spoke but there was a distinct sound of someone breathing on the other end. I held the phone with a tender fingers, brushing aside a stray hair behind my ear.

"_Sam," _was the first thing my father said, and at the very first tone of his voice, my skin crawled with guilt and sorrow. Even from that one syllable, he sounded like a broken man. "_I know Kat is there with you and your brother and I hope you'll do me the decency of not listening to the rest of the message and hand the phone over to my daughter."_

I lifted my eyes to meet Sam's who was looking at me with a soft expression. I felt a serge of respect for him before I went back to the message.

"_Kat, I . . ." _my father's voice wavered, but did not break. I listened intently, chewing hard on my lower lip. _"I'm not mad. I understand why you ran away but you never let me explain things to you, honey."_

I pressed my hand to my forehead, feeling the tube of my throat constrict painfully.

"_I've been trying to contact you all year. I've called over half a dozen hunters to keep an eye out for you, including John. I told him not to tell Dean and Sam because I know they'd take your side no matter what."_

I wondered if he knew what had happened to his old friend. From his words, I guessed not.

"_Kat, I need you to listen to me. It doesn't matter how angry you are at me now or how you never want to see me again. I _need _you to listen. You can''t do this alone. Your mother wasn't evil and neither are you, but the less you feed—" _he cut himself off and I knew he was trying to think of an alternative thing to say in case Sam had continued to listen to the message. "_The less you eat, the more our inner demons become restless. There's a point when the hunger can take you over and you'll be more beast than human. I don't know how you've been—sating it, but you need help. I know someone who knows of your . . . condition. If you're willing, in exactly two weeks I will be in Seattle. I don't know where you are, but I think this woman can help us, help _you. _If you haven't already, I advise not to tell Sam and Dean about your current situation. Please send me your answer quickly. I love you, honey. You'll always be my baby girl. I'm sor—"_

But it appeared he had run out of message time to finish his sentence. I retracted the phone, clicking the little 'delete' button and releasing a sigh.

"You okay?" asked Sam after a few silent moments filled with the sound of the pouring rain upon the roof.

"Yeah," I said, frowning down at the phone in my hands. I looked at him. "He wants me to meet him in Seattle in two weeks."

"Why so long?"

I shrugged, my shoulders drooping slightly. I stared at the floor for several long minutes.

"Aren't you going to ask me what happened?" I said, looking at Sam through my eyelashes. "I know you've been wondering."

"Yeah, I have been," said Sam leisurely. "But you're not talking about it, so I'm not gonna push."

I sunk back into the cushions, curling my legs against my body and gazing out of the window, still twiddling the phone within my fingers.

"So?" said Sam after a beat. "What do you want to do?"

I glanced at him sideways. "You mean do I want to go all the way to Seattle to see my father?"

"Well, yeah. Sounds to me like you can fix whatever's happened between you two."

"Yeah. Seems like."

We sat for a few more silent moments. I thought hard. Dad had found someone who knew about my condition? I thought that unlikely. It can't be very often that a human mates with a demon, so why would there be someone who knew enough to help me?

Not that I was going to turn down it down. I had practically faced this entire past year with a blind eye and having no idea what was going to happen to me under the unusual circumstances. Dad was right about one thing, though; if there was something I regretted about leaving him on the spot, besides the obvious, it was not giving him the time to explain anything to me.

All that I needed to know was that my father had kept this secret from me my entire life and didn't care to mention it until I had a doe wedged between my teeth. The memory brought an enormous case of angry gnarls within my stomach. After that, I was gone, jumping into one of my father's old trucks and hit the road, not even bothering to pack a bag.

Coincidentally, my first plan was to seek out the Winchesters and ask for help. But then I got word that Sam had left his brother and father for college and I assumed I was the last thing they needed. So then I decided to become a lone wolf and find the most discreet and smallest town I could pinpoint in the country.

I had never lived on my own before, so the beginning was incredibly rough. The first few weeks I was stuck in the town's motel, _Dove's Mountain, _and only leaving the room to get food from the nearby diner. Most of my time was consumed piling over websites, searching for demons with my traits. As it turned out, it technically wasn't a 'demon', so I wasn't sure where the black eyes came from.

I had even bought that stupid anti-possession amulet in hopes that it would get rid of my 'problem'. As it turns out, it isn't a possession at all, just what I am.

What I discovered on my own was that the heat was next to unbearable. Whenever I was in directly sunlight for longer than ten minutes I would become immensely weak and so tired that any task suddenly seemed life-draining. According to various resources, Cor Comedenti's blood temperatures were generally one eleven point seven—or around there—which is why the majority of them were found in Alaska or Canada.

That was one of the first signs I had noticed. When I once laid a hand upon my forehead, I thought I had caught a fever but felt none of the symptoms, save for when I was in the sun. Well, a Comedenti was said to be some distant cousin of the vampire so it wasn't all that surprising.

"Kat?"

Sam released me from my thoughts and I looked at him. He was watching me with a tender stare.

"It's your call," he said. "It's your dad. I'm willing to drive with you down there, and I'm sure Dean is, too."

"What do you think I should do?" I asked, knowing the answer.

He released a small sigh through his nostrils, eyes not leaving mine.

"I don't think you should leave things unfinished with Jack," he said. "Whatever happened, it seems like he's willing to patch things up. I just don't think your anger is worth your relationship with him. I know I wish I did a lot of things differently with _my _dad." His voice came close to breaking on the last word.

I looked at him sympathetically, emotions wavering in the air. I could break a tear for John if I tried, but I was so sick of tired of crying. I never cried much before this year. If anything, I was usually the one comforting Sam on the nights that were hardest. My father used to tell me that being raised around only guys must have—toughened me up.

I leaned against Sam, resting the side of my head on his shoulder and closing my eyes. Sam didn't tense up to my touch like Dean did. I suppose there always a sort of a different connection between me and the two brothers than I ever cared to admit. I had been little more than a year old when Sam was born but the closeness of age certainly did help in making me feel more comfortable around him.

Sam draped a comforting arm around me and I sighed, listening to the pouring rain, satisfied at how it cooled down the air.

"I hate choices," I grumped. "Isn't there some life, choice-alternative escape?"

Sam chuckled.

"Not that I know of. If I ever hear of one, I'll give you a call."

I sighed and opened my eyes.

"I'm going to seem like the real bitchy character if I say no," I stated. Sam gave another small laugh under his breath.

"Never," he promised.

I smiled slightly.

"Whether or not I like it, I think I know what's right. I hope I do. I want everything to be okay with dad. It's been so . . . lonely this past year. I want—I mean, yeah. I want to see him again. Yes."

"I'm glad," said Sam, and I noticed that relieved tone in his voice. Sam really did care for me, really cared for what was best for me.

I smiled, closing my eyes again and sinking back into him.

Maybe everything was going to turn out alright after all. I had to admit that the most painful gap I felt this year was the absence of my father and how much I missed him. It almost overcame the intense surge of fury I had when I thought of how he had concealed my bloodline from me for my entire life.

But Sam and Dean were right; family was important. More important perhaps than anything you might come by in life. I didn't have time to waste all my emotions on hate and betrayal, especially in this world filled with demons when anything could happen.

The front door opened, leaving me to open my eyes suddenly and look over. A sodden Dean entered the house, hair clinging to his face and holding two plastic bags in each of his hands. He kicked the door closed and his eyes wandered to Sam and me sitting side by side on the couch and with my head resting on his shoulder.

He hesitated before entering the living room. I saw one of his eyebrows lift as he sat opposite us on the armchair.

"Comfortable?" he asked. Sam and I awkwardly shifted apart and my eyes found the bags.

"Chinese?" I asked, half laughing.

"Good nose," said Dean, glancing at me.

"I saw the logo."

"I like how your idea of groceries is Chinese takeout," said Sam, rolling his eyes.

"What? This was practically a feast to us back in the day," Dean said, glancing between us as he retrieved a carton from one of the bags. "Fried rice and noodles for you, Sammy. And orange chicken and steamed rice for the Kit-Kat."

He placed it in front of me and the my lips twitched into a small smile.

"You used to get me this all the time when our parents were out," I said quietly.

"Yeah, your pop was pretty determined to keep you a vegetarian," said Dean as he took out his own meal out of the other bag. "Funny way of thinkin' if he was trying to raise you to be a hunter."

I gave a noncommittal shrug and accepted the fork Dean handed me. We ate in silence for a few minutes.

Halfway through my chicken, I blurted out, "How do you feel about driving to Washington?"

Dean still had some noodles hanging loosely from his mouth and raised his eyes to meet mine. He did a rather disgusting yet impressive hurried slurp of his food before looking at me again.

"Come again?" he said.

I raised Sam's cell phone, placing it on the coffee table for Dean's inspection, not leaving his eyes.

"My dad called," I said. "He wants us to meet him in Seattle in two weeks."

Dean raised surprised brows from Sam to me. When his eyes met mine again he sat up a little straighter, rubbing his chin.

"And?" he said. "What did you tell him?"

"He left a message," I explained. "I haven't told him anything yet. But I want to go," I added. Dean studied me for a few moments and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He should be glad, right? This was what Dean wanted me to do.

"Good," was what he said. "I'm on board. Finally getting the family back together, huh?" He took a moment to take a large bite of chicken and then gave an enormous swallow. "Once we take care of this Cor what's-its-face, we should be all set to go."

I meant to smile that fake smile I had every time the demon was brought up, yet I believed I looked as though I was merely grimacing. I could no longer pretend to smile, and I knew the reason why. There was a terrible feeling snaring its way in my gut, as if thorny roots were gnarling their way in my body and curling alongside my organs. It lead me to the only conclusion that something terrible was going to happen.

"Right," I said. "All set."

* * *

**Got any tips for writer's block? I felt like I had to sweat bullets and blood just for this simple little chapter, but I had to get it out.**

**Anyway, I don't know whether it seems like it or not, but I'm a _very _insecure writer and I hate the feeling of assuming like you guys aren't enjoying. I'm also terrified of creating the dreaded Mary-Sue. So, if it isn't too much of a bother, could you pretty please with a sweet cherry on top take a little bit of your time to leave a comment on your thoughts? It really makes me wanna write and I get this awesome bubbly feeling inside :D love you guys**


	9. Scars

NINE: Scars

_**21 Years Ago**_

_Dean struggled to keep the baby Kat in his arms as he sat on the end of the queen bed. Her little hands were reaching out to the direction of her father who was seated at the little motel table, talking in hushed whispers with his father. Dean wondered what they were discussing oh-so-secretly with occasional glances towards the toddler he held._

"_No, Kat," he told her softly, bouncing her up and down softly in attempt to calm her down. She turned her head towards him, impossibly big light brown eyes set upon his face. They always seemed to hold much more intelligence than she ever let on. Atop her head was a patch of unevenly cut dark hair which was due to her father who insisted to keep it short, yet held no special talent with the scissors. Kat was far too young to care, however._

_Two-year-old Sam was snuggled underneath the soft linens on the bed that Dean sat on, sleeping peacefully. Dean was glad; it seemed as though John and Jack were having some hushed argument, but Dean didn't want to move. He wanted to know what they were talking about._

"_Deeaaaan," she said, dragging out his name like she always did when she wanted something from him. He frowned down at the infant. Her pudgy legs stuck out from her diaper which her shirt barely concealed, making her look much more like an overgrown pink pincushion._

"_What?" Dean asked impatiently. He was trying to catch a word from his father's conversation which seemed to be getting heated. _

"_Hungwy," Kat persisted, reaching forward and placing her palm flat against his cheek to get his attention. He looked back down at her, down at her doe eyes which were framed with the extended black eyelashes that rested with soft curls against her rosy cheeks every time she blinked._

_Dean sighed; he just couldn't stay mad at her._ _No one with a soul easily could. She had her own form of discreet manipulation that made it hard for any fellow to say no to her._

"_You're hungry?" he asked in a slightly exasperated tone. _

"_Dean, take Kat into the kitchen and make her dinner," ordered John and Dean looked at him. He knew he was just saying that to get him out of the room so he could continue his argument with Jack more openly. Dean would have preferred to stay, but he respected his father's word._

_He shifted Kat upward so that her little arms wrapped around his neck and got to his feet. He walked into the small kitchen area and placed her upon the counter._

"_What do you want, Kit-Kat?" Dean asked her lightly, hands on his hips._

"_Hawt dawgs!" cheered Kat, a bright smile spreading on her lips as he said her nickname. _

"_Your daddy doesn't want you eating meat."_

_Kat shifted her lower lip outward, resulting in a pout. Her large eyes twinkled upward at Dean in a silent plead. Dean sighed._

"_You're going to get me into so much trouble!" he said, reaching for her minuscule feet and tickling the palm of them. Kat let out a shrill giggle, chewing on the end of her finger._

_Dean started up the pan and poured the oil but Kat suddenly intervened._

"_Why cook?" she asked._

_He glanced at her._

"_You don't want _raw _hot dogs," he said, wrinkling his nose._

"_What raw?"_

"_Means it's not cooked."_

"_That how I want them," Kat insisted. _

_Dean frowned. "No you don't." He turned on the stove. Kat watched him with her brows furrowed but thankfully, did not argue any further. A few minutes later he placed the slightly burned hot dogs onto a platter and seated Kat in front of them on the table. She ate them without a fork or ketchup and afterward she had a splatter of grease smeared across her mouth. She smiled widely at Dean, showing her barely grown in teeth. _

"_You're such a messy eater," Dean muttered, grabbing a napkin and leaning forward to wipe away the mess from her face. Kat let out another sheepish giggle._

"_I'm sawry," she said. Dean paused in wiping off the oil, narrowing his eyes down at her. He wiped away a stray hair out of her eyes and then rid her of the rest of the grease._

_Jack and John suddenly walked in and Dean fidgeted guiltily, sure he was about to receive a lecture about feeding Kat meat, but the fathers didn't seem that interested in her meal._

"_Dean, Jack and I are going on a small trip," said John, looking intently down at his son. It was sad that Dean had become so accustomed to those words that he couldn't even find it in himself to feel disappointed._

_Dean also noted how completely dire his father's expression and voice was._

"_Take care of your brother. We'll only be gone a day or so."_

_Jack reached down and ensnared his daughter into his arms, positioning her so she sat upon his forearm and her head leaned against his shoulder._

"_You're taking Kat?" Dean questioned. This wasn't normal. What hunting trip did Jack and John have to do that included a three-year-old?_

"_We'll be back in a day," repeated John._

"_Where are we going?" Kat asked her father, sounding sleepy. _

"_Just a little trip, sweetie," said Jack, planting a kiss on her hairline. Dean saw him glance at his father. John casted him a somber look before placing a hand upon Dean's shoulder. Then they left, leaving a thoroughly confused Dean._

_When he heard the door open and close, he slid off the chair and back into the bedroom. He watched the headlights of the Impala parked outside the room switch on. They drove out of the parking lot and Dean released a breath, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. _

_He went to check on Sam who had remained in his peaceful slumber. He laid down beside him, pulling the covers over his body, careful not to awake his brother. He leaned forward, switched off the light, and straightened his back against the spring mattress. After a few minutes, Dean could feel sleep enter his system and turned on his side, slipping off into a dreamless sleep._

_._

I brought my arms together in a slow and steady motion, then pressing them out in front of me with controlled ease. I breathed in a lungful of muggy night air, refraining myself from wiping away the trickle of sweat that escaped from my hairline. A loon made its call somewhere from the pond, mingling in with the melodious tune of the crickets hidden within the overgrown grass.

The nearing full moon reflected off the water's surface and shined brightly in my face. I forced myself to block out all the sounds of nature and closed my eyes, along with my mind. I brought my foot in a crescent moon shape, dragging my toes in the dirt below as I pushed another hand outward.

Tai Chi was something I had started practicing two months ago when I thought it could help soothe my mind, especially before any of the full moons. And although I had noticed an increase of success, each month was a terrible experience. It was similar to how I assumed being possessed would feel like; standing there in your body and watching yourself do these things without having any control. Luckily I had just enough to stop myself from hurting anyone.

Tai Chi, as I found, helped me balance my mind and center myself so I had at least some more self-control. I didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow, so I needed to be as prepared as I could. Difficult as my condition was, I had found ways to make the best of it. Or in the very least—cope with it.

It wasn't the movements that made the practice difficult; it was the training of your mind to keep your motions controlled, slow, and disciplined. That was why I enjoyed it so much. During physical training you are exercising only your body while delivering your punches with only one weapon; strength. In Tai Chi I could almost feel my brain throbbing from the strain of oppression, gaining me _mental _strength. I think somehow I managed to convince myself if I practiced enough I would be able to tame the monster within completely.

"I didn't know you could do that."

I opened my eyes, turning to find the perpetrator for my loss of concentration.

Dean stood there in his jeans and black T-shirt, a faint shine to his skin due to the high humidity. He was watching me closely with a speculative gaze.

I lowered my hands silently to my sides, returning his look with a small frown.

"Why are you up?" I questioned.

"Why are you doing Tai Chi by the pond at three in the morning?"

"I couldn't sleep and this is soothing," I answered.

"You do seem to be a little on edge lately."

I met his eyes for a brief moment, then wavered my gaze elsewhere.

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't a conviction." The end of his foot played with a small pebble, rolling it below his shoe. He looked up at me again. "I dunno," he shrugged with a half-hearted smile. "Guess I can't sleep either."

I didn't answer. I wished he would have stayed in the house and allowed me to try and attempt to stable my mind right when it was most mandatory. I didn't have the heart to ask, yet I didn't have to.

I smiled slightly.

"Since we're the insomniacs of the house, care the pass the time with me?" I asked.

Dean looked temporarily taken aback, an uncertain expression casted across his face.

"Because I can't think of anything better to do than wave those hand signals in the air," he said sarcastically.

His comment earned another slight twitch of a smile from me.

"It's relaxing. I think all of us could use a bit of relaxation, yeah?"

"My idea of relaxing is sitting back with a beer in one hand and a nice, medium-cooked cheeseburger in the other," he said pointedly with a small nod of the head, smiling nonchalantly.

"Well, I'm expanding your ideas," I said, rolling my eyes slightly but looking in the other direction so he wouldn't see. "Unless . . . you don't think you can?"

That certainly worked. Dean straightened himself slightly, chest puffing slightly and eyebrows knitting together. I refrained back a laugh; Dean Winchester would never turn down an offer if it threatened his manly pride.

"You think I can't push my hands back and forth?" he said testily.

"I don't know. Why don't you show me?" I grinned.

Dean paused for a short moment, testing his grounds and looking at me warily. I motioned him with my head, hoping to drown out the smile that was stretching further across my face. The way he acted; so stubborn with his pride and such a typical guy . . . well, it was adorable.

He walked beside me, adjusting his shoulders and cracking his neck like he was about to enter a wrestling ring. I faced him, feeling rather insignificant in the shadow of his tall frame. I wasn't sure if he could see my Cheshire cat smile in merely the light of the moon, but it was oddly satisfying to have Dean succumb to something as simple as teaching him something.

"Start . . . with your palms together," I started slowly, pressing my hands together as if I were in prayer. Dean shifted slightly on the spot, and I wondered if he were going to blow this off again. To my dim surprise, he copied me after a few seconds, releasing a short breath through his nose and glancing up at the sky. My stomach squirmed every time I looked at the moon, so I kept my eyes firmly planted upon his face.

"Then—take an easy, slow breath, and spread your right arm out—like you're swimming—and at the same time exhale that breath and then repeat the same step with your left arm. It's all about keeping your head clear and keeping the body chemicals in balance."

"When did you become the oh-so-wise Sensei?" Dean snorted.

I eyed him playfully.

"I've had a lot of time on my hands. Now listen, Grasshopper; do as I do. Consider me like a mirror."

"Oh, look. I have boobs," he said with a sideways smile as he met my eyes.

"Grasshopper wouldn't be so immature," I said placidly. "Now, c'mon. Buck up your inner Tai Chi-ness and follow my lead."

Dean looked as though he were reciting my words in his head before complying. He mirrored my movements, eyes combing me with a wakeless stare. As the moments pressed on, I noted how all the more intense his gaze would become, how the joking manner had dispersed and how he seemed to really get into this. I gave him a cheeky smile at the thought but otherwise kept my teasing comments to myself. I enjoyed watching him focus so much. It brought out another side to him that I hadn't seen that many times in all the years I've known him. Focused, direct, fiery, and deep.

At the thought of this, I felt a strange, yet small twist somewhere in my stomach region. It was quick, quick enough that I almost missed it. Yet I knew it was there. I was rendered temporarily confused, befuddled by the cause of this reaction to Dean's stare on me.

I raised my eyes to meet his, wondering if he could sense that something strange had just occurred. Yet he remained oblivious, waiting for me to make the next move. But he must have gotten something from my expression because he gave me a curious look which I chose to ignore.

I swallowed, making a waving motion with my hands and towards my body and turning with controlled ease so that my back faced Dean. Maybe I moved back a bit too much—or perhaps Dean moved forward?—but I was suddenly aware of the presence of his body. I would have felt heat radiate off him if my body's temperature wasn't higher than his. I wondered if he could feel it, feel the feverish aura that encased over me like a permanent cage. If so, he said nothing. In fact, neither of us had spoken these past few minutes and I was suddenly aware of the pressing silence, not sure whether to feel awkward or not.

I pushed my hands outward, as if I was pushing away a wall. Dean followed in suit, his hands moving forward past my shoulders and head, his arms directly over mine. I stiffened slightly, suddenly overwhelmed and unnerved by the sudden intimacy. His hands, ever so slightly, brushed the top of my hand, fingers folding slightly to hold my palm. My lungs constricted painfully against my ribs, and I realized I had forgotten to breathe.

Did he realize what he was doing? Frankly, I didn't have time to find out. My heart, being completely normal a few minutes ago even when I had been doing Tai Chi for hours, was suddenly performing an odd _thump thump _in my chest, skipping every now and then. I swallowed, attempting to moisten my dry throat.

Dean was close enough behind me that I could feel his breath brush against my bare, sweaty neck. I sucked in a silent breath through my lips, closing my eyes as Dean's hands went from holding mine to trailing up my arms and resting on my shoulders. His fingers left a frightening electrical buzz wherever they traveled on my skin and I found myself unable to move, unable to process the sensation I was undergoing.

His fingers instead possessed the area of my shoulder blades, trailing his fingers along certain lines and causing me to intake a small gasp of breath. I lowered my arms to my sides, lowering my head slightly as if to make the exposure of my back easier.

I didn't know what I was thinking, or if I was thinking at all. My mind seemed to be placed into a temporary mindless trance, almost a form of high. I wasn't focused on the situation as much as the feeling of Dean brushing his rough fingers across my skin.

"Where did you get these?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

I opened my eyes and I was suddenly brought out of my hypnotism. I stiffened beneath his touch, suddenly all too aware of what I was doing. Then I remembered what he was referring to.

The scars, the claw marks on my back that didn't reach further than my shoulder blades. I had received them from none other than myself on the first few full moons of being on my own. The monster within me, so desperate to get its claws on something, had nothing else to scratch at than myself. I had spent hours in that basement, writhing on the floor and digging my nails into my back, howling like a wounded animal.

Dean didn't need to know about those times. Dean didn't ever have to know about those times. No one did.

I straightened myself, making the space between Dean and I more distinct. I turned to look at him over my shoulder, only to find that his stare was combing me down with furrowed brows and questioning eyes.

"I need to get some sleep," I said in a monotone. "We have a big day tomorrow."

With that, I left, walking away from a confused Dean and from whom I could feel his stare resume its pace upon my back.

A big day indeed.

* * *

**Nothing like sitting on your bed with your laptop while a storms a brewin' outside while your writing your next chapter, eh? **

******Thank you SO MUCH to those have reviewed and told me what you thought so far. They made my day and just mean so much to me. Thank you, guys :)**

**I was hoping to discreetly emphasize a little bit of Kat/Dean chemistry in this chapter without making it totally unrealistic. Because I mean, c'mon. If you know someone your whole life it's not going to suddenly be all 'mushy mushy' once they get older.**

**Anywho, if it's not too much trouble, I would love it if you left a review telling me your thoughts! I love, love reading them and they are overall so motivational!**


	10. Suspicions

TEN: Suspicions  


"One hundred point _fourteen_," Sam uttered, staring down in disbelief at the thermometer in his fingers. His eyes flickered onto my face as I was snuggled in between the sheets of my bed, looking up at the brothers nonchalantly.

Dean crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowing as he stared at me.

"I'm no medic or anything, but don't you think this is a good enough cause to go to the hospital?" he said.

"Dean, you're supposed to go to the hospital if you're at one point four," said Sam with a worried glance at me. "How the hell did this happen?"

"Something going 'round?" I suggested, perhaps a bit too casually. The pair of their faces transfixed into concern. I pulled the covers up to my chin, staring at the pair of them. "Really, I think all I need is rest and alphabet soup. Maybe some trashy magazines."

"Kat, if you're temperature goes over one hundred point six it can cause permanent brain damage or even death," said Sam, staring at me with wide eyes.

"Alright. You're coming with us," said Dean suddenly, pushing past his brother and catching me by surprise by scooping his arms underneath me and lifting me up. He let out a low breath. "You _are _hot."

I disregarded this comment.

"Put me down," I ordered, scowling at him.

"Not with a temperature of one hundred point fourteen, I'm not," he said.

"I'll cough in your mouth."

"Good, cause we're going to the hospital," he said stubbornly.

"I'll _spit _in your mouth."

"Now you're just getting kinky."

"Dean Winchester, put me down right now," I growled. "If something was really wrong with me I would even be able to talk? I wouldn't be resisting, that's for sure. I think that thermometer is broken, anyway," I added to Sam who looked down at it.

I glanced back up at Dean.

"Seriously, guys. It feels more like a bad bug. I just need some rest. The full moon's in less than twelve hours away and you need to get ready. If I was dying, you would know."

The pair of them said nothing and looked unconvinced. It was an odd sensation being in close contact with Dean. Because his temperature was so much lower than my own, he felt oddly chilled beside me. I shifted uncomfortably in his arms, releasing a small breath.

"I don't know. Maybe we should take it again," said Sam slowly.

I wriggled out of Dean's grasp, landing back on the bed and looking between the brothers.

"You guys have a job to do," I said firmly. "That includes hunting down a demon tonight and being prepared for it. Also making me some chicken soup."

They raised raised their eyebrows.

"She sounds like healthy, normal Kat," Dean muttered to his brother in an undertone. "I'm confused."

Sam moved forward and attempted to place the back of his hand upon my forehead again, but I dodged it and jumped back under the sheets once more.

"Please," I said in a smaller, more vulnerable tone. It earned the effect I wished to have upon them.

"I'll get the water on the stove," said Sam.

"I'll get the trashy magazines," said Dean.

I smiled.

"Thank you."

They left the room, closing the door behind them. As soon as I heard it close, my smile faltered. I pressed myself into my pillow, staring at the wall opposite me.

Frankly, I wasn't sure how I would make it out of this successfully. I had no idea how long the brothers were going to be out looking for the 'demon'. I guessed a while since they would be running in circles and searching for something that wasn't there. In my experience, my senses had been heightened slightly but I wasn't sure, wherever they were going to be, whether the scent of Dean's blood would reach me or not. That was also something that led me to biting on my fingernails.

I had considered more than once merely just getting in my car and leaving. The only thing that stopped me from doing this was because I was fooled by my love for both of them. I simple couldn't bear the thought of how confused, angry, or sad they would be if I simply took off. Also I knew them well enough that they wouldn't let me go that easily. They would track me down and maybe even find me. Then I would really have some questions to answer and I know Dean would never let it go until he got all the answers out of me.

I stared at the wall for so long that the corners of my vision began to blur out slightly. I blinked, glancing out the window and releasing a small sigh. It was no longer raining, much to my disdain. I could practically feel the hot, humid air seep its way through the cracks of the window.

As long as I have been under my current condition, I will never grow used to it. Never. A constant dry spot on the back of my throat no matter how many glasses of water I drank, always hearing the heart beat of others as it thuds against their chest like a dinner bell, and having to admit to myself that I craved it. If I wasn't such a coward, I would have checked myself out a lot time ago.

But to some level, I respected myself too much to do that, even if I hated what I became. Also I would never do that to my father. So I was condemned to living this life unless this person that my father had in mind had any tricks of their sleeve, to which I highly doubted.

I deepened myself in the swallow of the pillow, feeling a slight cold sweat trickle along the pores of my face.

My objective? As soon as the brothers left the house to hunt, I would chain myself in the basement and hopefully remain down their until the night is over and not be found. When the effects of the moon wore down, I would sneak back upstairs before Sam and Dean realized I was missing and proclaim that I was feeling better. Then in two weeks time we would drive down to Washington to meet my father and hopefully solve up everything before the Winchesters could find out my secret.

Easy peasy, yeah?

Short answer; no.

.

The store bell rang as Dean entered, causing the porky man behind the counter to look up at him and register his appearance with a small frown. Dean began to scan the racks of magazines, wondering what the hell young women read these days and why they would give a flying fuck to whom big-ass Kim Kardashian was marrying next.

He picked up a nearby one which was covered with some famous celebrity and about her breakup drama. It was bizarre, almost painful, to see people worrying about tacky little drama like this when there was real problems out there; real demons that needed to be fought. He placed the mag back, scoffing under his breath.

"You're not gay," said a voice from behind him. Dean looked around to discover it was the man at the counter. Dean arched an eyebrow.

"Thank you. I wouldn't have known unless you told me."

"No, I mean, not many guys browse them magazines 'less they gay and you don't exactly strike me as the type. You got an angry girlfriend back home? That time of the month again?" He gave a throaty chuckle.

Dean smiled sardonically.

"Yep. This is a new tactic I'm trying out. Usually I just throw bars of chocolate at them until I know it's safe."

"Well, here's a tip, son; they ain't crazy, they just women." He laughed at his own joke. "So, tell me, boy. Where you from? You ain't from 'round here, that much is obvious. I know every face in the town of Dry Prong and you ain't one of 'em."

"You caught me. Just staying at a friend's house for a while."

"Mm. Who's your friend?"

Dean frowned slightly at the slightly intrusive comment but didn't see why it would be bad to answer.

"Kat Thornton. Just staying by that old house on the lake."

The man frowned.

"I don't know no Kat Thornton," he said.

"Full name Katarina?"

He shook his head. "Nope. If you're talkin' 'bout Hummels Lake, then the only person stayin' by there is a girl named Ashley Bence. Heard she was house sittin' for the women who lives there. Nice girl. Comes in here every so often. Buys weird stuff though."

Dean's brow crinkled slightly, resting his hands on the counter and looking uncertainly at the man.

"What does, um, Ashley look like?"

Dean was a bit annoyed by the grin that spread on the man's face.

"Hey, no. I understand. Not a lot to choose from in Dry Prong." He considered. "Um, reddish hair, hazel eyes and—gosh, really pale skin. Girl might pass for a looker if she got a little rays. Also been lookin' really unhealthy last few times I saw her."

Dean nodded stiffly, fingering the magazine in his hands. Why would Kat be using a fake name in a town she had been living longer than a year in? Unless she was _that _determined to hide from her father?

"What do you mean she bought weird stuff?" he questioned.

Dean didn't like the look in the eye the man got, almost—lustful. He confirmed to himself that he didn't like him that much.

"If this girl _is _your girlfriend, you guys are into some kinky ass shit. One of the first few months I ever saw her face 'round here she bought four feet long chains along with some shackles and strong-ass bolts. I'm tellin' you; with them chains an' bolts combined, you wouldn't be able to hold back a wild boar. But who am I to judge? I don't tell people how to live their lives."

Dean stared at the man for a full ten seconds. It must have disturbed him greatly because he took a step back, frowning at Dean with concern.

"You alright, son?"

"Yeah, fine," said Dean stiffly, rubbing his eyes slightly. "I'll just take this one, then."

"Right."

Dean paid for the magazine and left the store in a hurry, practically jumping into his Impala and driving off down the road.

Back at the house, he found Sam in the kitchen pouring a bowl of steaming chicken soup. He glanced up as Dean entered the house in a hurry.

"Didn't you get the magazines?" asked Sam who was surveying Dean's empty hands given that he had forgotten them in the car.

"Just give me five minutes, okay?" Dean said, indicating Kat's door. Sam frowned, looking puzzled as he stood in the middle of the kitchen with the bowl of soup in his hands.

Dean forgot to knock before entering Kat's room, but she was merely laying in the same position on the bed as she was when he left her, except that the covers were thrown off her. She did not smile when she saw Dean standing there and he suspected that she already knew something was wrong.

Her gaze was speculative as Dean stood there for a few moments, gazing at her, wondering how he was going to start off. He suddenly regretted not thinking his plan over before barging in like a rampaging bull.

"Trashy magazines?" she suddenly asked, in a nonchalant tone that didn't cope with her expression. He allowed his gaze to meet her eyes, which showed that she was no idiot in knowing trashy magazines were the last thing on her mind.

"In a minute," he dismissed, moving forward to the foot of the bed. "Right now I'm more interested on what 'Ashley Bence' has to say about her new bondage interests."

At first, her face hardened at the mention of the name, but then grew confused.

"What . . . ?" she said.

"Never knew you were the type for chains, Kit-Kat," he said airily. "I guess six years _does _make a difference."

He watched her expression turn stony and her eyes flicker to the window where it revealed the sunset. She looked back at him.

"Maybe I wasn't entirely honest when I said I wasn't chasing the demon down," she admitted solemnly.

"And why was that such an important secret to keep?" he pressed.

She released a small laugh.

"Maybe I just didn't want to admit that I couldn't catch it."

Dean wasn't buying it.

"But if you were buying chains that obviously means you were more interested in keeping it captive rather than putting it down."

She looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"Well it wasn't killing humans, so why would I kill _it? _I wanted to interrogate it, find out what it is and wants. But it's damn near impossible to find. For all I know, it could be in the next few states over by now."

Dean smiled slightly, though it wasn't an amused smile. Kat was hiding something and hiding it well. He knew that now. But he also knew better than to go full out on a confrontation with her.

"You're not much different from this demon then, are you?" he asked. He was surprised by the effect his words had on her. Her figure stiffened and her eyes grew icy, skin draining of the little color it already had. She did look quite ill. "You're both determined to stay hidden. I get the fight with your dad. But honestly, using a fake name and hiding out in the middle of Tim buck two—seems to me like you're set on hiding from the _world."_

She didn't move and her expression didn't shift. It was impossible to decipher what she was feeling or what she was thinking. But Dean continued to hold her with a callous stare, hoping to break her or in the very least get some portion of truth from her.

"Maybe that's what I intend to do," she said finally.

Dean couldn't explain his anger.

"Hide? For the rest of your life? What's the _cause _for this Kat? _Why _do you _want _to hide?"

He didn't expect an answer, and nor did he receive one. He hated fighting with Kat. For too long he had worked the majority of his life to keep a smile on her face and when he had to argue with her it made his attempts seem in vain.

"I'm sorry, Dean," she said sincerely. "I'm really sorry." Her voice wavered on the last word but did not break.

"Yeah," he said straightening up and looking away from her. "I am too."

And he left.

.

I waited until the last second to make sure the Winchesters were out of the driveway. The sound of the crunch of the tires on the gravel eventually faded and I got to my feet, shaking slightly. It must have been the effect of the nearing full moon but I couldn't stop trembling.

I felt weak and disoriented, also a little sick.

I turned off my bedroom lights, then exited the room and proceeded to repeat the same step throughout the entire house. I was so thirsty now that I considered getting a glass of water before heading downstairs, but I knew it would be of no good.

I opened the basement door, shutting it tightly behind me and locking the many locks that I had bolted in. My eyes found the chains on the wall and I heaved a great breath, running my fingers anxiously through my hair.

I can do this. I can do this. You're not going to be found out. The brothers are out and are not going to see or hear you. This night is going to be over soon.

My eyes glazed over the low rectangular basement window that sat just above the shackles. I swallowed. The sun was fully set, and now I just had to wait for the darkness to rise with the moon.

I bent down, taking one of the heavy chains in my hands and staring down at it laying flat in my palm. Clenching it tightly between my fingers, I looked up and ran my tongue over my lower lip.

"Here we go."

* * *

**Hey there! I hope you enjoyed! I know it wasn't the most eventful chapter but I just needed it to lead up to the next one, which will contain a lot more action and where the plot of the story finally picks up.**

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**Stay crazy.**


	11. Chains, Pain, And Winchester Wounds

**Hello my wonderful readers! I know I left off the last story at a bit of a sore point but that's why I'm updating early. Generally I would like to update once a week but I let this one slide because I was so eager to get it out :D In this chapter, the plot thickens a bit and I think I have it headed in the direction I want it to be.**

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**Stay sour, lemon drops ;D**

ELEVEN: Chains, Pain, And Winchester Wounds

Sam watched as the tiny orange bar of the speedometer twitched over the '90' and looked up at his brother with concern. Dean's fingers clenched the steering wheel tightly and his face was splattered with distraught. Sam pressed himself back into the leather seat, stiffening his muscles as he gazed out into the road with wide eyes.

"Dean!"

"What?"

"Slow down. You're going to kill us!"

Dean's only answer was accelerating even faster forward and Sam clenched the side of the door, grasping the handle and letting out a sharp breath through his teeth.

"We're not in any hurry. Not enough to have us crash, anyway. Will you just ease up on the gas?"

"No, Sam."

Sam couldn't make heads or tails of his brother's sudden change of attitude. The only thing he could guess was something that had to do with his conversation with Kat, but couldn't imagine what. He had noted that Kat had been acting peculiar lately but thought if it was truly dire she would tell them.

"Dean, we're going to get there eventually. Do you really have to floor it?" Sam demanded.

"Sam, Kat's hiding something. I don't know what and I don't know how big, but I just want to find this demon quickly and then get back to the house and talk to her."

"Why are you even thinking about the demon at this point? If you're really that determined to confront her, why don't we just go back to the house now?"

Sam watched Dean's eyes flicker momentarily upon the moon that was rising higher and higher in the sky.

"Cause tonight might be our only chance to snag this thing."

Sam opened his mouth to retort, but recognized the familiar tone that indicated Dean was impossible to reason with. He ran his hands over his eyes, releasing a short breath and gazing out of the window which passed by in hazy blur.

Dean had always had some strange weakness when it came to Kat. But was weakness the right word? It wasn't exactly a soft spot because Dean was always one to show tough love to her. It was moreover Kat had the ability to wipe all sense or reason completely from Dean Winchester's mind, at times making him act a little crazy. Sam wasn't sure if Dean even realized it himself, but Sam had been around them both long enough to notice it. He wasn't even sure Kat realized what she did to Dean, how she made him go insane.

When it came down to it, Sam appeared to be the only one who had any insight on the situation, though he dare not suggest anything to either of the two because he knew they would both deny it.

"Here," said Dean after a few painstakingly fear filled moments of only just kicking it to ninety-eight miles per hour. The car screeched to a stop just short of a large, meadow area that was lit up by the light of the moon. It was quite deserted. No homes, stores, or any kind of establishment seemed to be placed anywhere near it.

"Why here?" inquired Sam.

"Cause it's conspicuous."

The brothers exited the car and walked to the back of it where Dean promptly lifted the hood up, revealing the array of many lethal weapons. He bent down, retrieving a frighteningly sharp machete knife and placing it in front of his eyes to examine it.

"Let's do this."

.

I doubled over, feeling the shackles tighten against my wrist, holding me quite steady. I released a sort of dry yell, not that far off from a sob and a splatter of saliva dribbled off my lower lip and onto the concrete floor.

It seemed I had never truly acknowledged this pain anytime before now, for it seemed to heave at me with much more force than the previous moons. The sensation was that of feeling a ball of rusty, barbed wire being planted somewhere in my stomach region and having it broil to a searing, white hot temperature that shattered my nerves and thought.

The idea of clawing out my own eyeballs seemed a less painful task than enduring this a second longer.

I choked on my own breaths, my chest rising and falling rapidly as if I was hyperventilating. I wanted to claw at myself again, to distract myself from this pain with another. I pulled against the chains, writhing, seething and gasping.

The fire extended itself up and took control of my entire body. I attempted to sit upright on my knees, but the very slightest movements felt like I was walking up against a spiked wall. The burning sensation trickled its way from my insides, to my arms, to the tips of my fingers. My nails dug into the ground, breaking on contact.

I knew this pain didn't last the entire night—it was simply the transformation. Almost how what you see in the movies with werewolves. It was as painful as it looked, though there was hardly any physical changes.

Yet in the meantime, it felt like someone was mixing a white hot blade in my insides and stirring it around my innards, like I was the human epitome of a mixing bowl.

I fell on my hands and knees, coughing and screeching until my throat turned raw. Without being able to help myself, I clenched my forearm, dragging my now-ragged nails across my skin and crying out as I saw the scarlet liquid seep from beneath my skin. With the four marks stretching from my forearm to my wrist, it looked as though a large feline had attacked me.

I threw myself on my side, kicking a nearby metal bucket and listening to it rebound off the concrete wall. My matted hair casted over my face and I accidentally inhaled strands of the red locks so it stuck uncomfortably to the side of my throat.

Once the burning reached to the very tips of my toes, I knew it was nearly over. The heat radiated in my body like some everlasting flame, pumping against my cells like a heartbeat. With a final and unbelievable burst of pain, my body lurched forward like it had its own mind, but I stayed in place. Even past the white-hot pain, I could still feel a slice of relief at this.

I was still trembling on the ground, but the pain was slowly ceasing even if the heat remained. I lifted my head, gazing around in the darkness. Though it wasn't exactly dark anymore. The area had been entirely enhanced and I found that my gaze was able to steadily focus on the passing by dust mites. You'd never think something so simple could be so fascinated. Almost beautiful.

I knew now that my eyes consisted to be of that endless black as they did occasionally turn when my moods were up and down. Why they were black as a regular demon's would be, I didn't know.

I breathed in a deep breath, trying to calm my whirring mind that was moving faster than I could comprehend.

From that simple breath, I could smell so many things. Upstairs there was a decaying Cheetoh laying under the couch and its staleness stung my nostrils. To my right there was a small mouse hole and I could smell and hear the huddle of several baby mice, awaiting eagerly for their mother to bring them food.

My head thumped painfully as if I had just received a nasty blow, making it impossible for me to perceive a single thought. My body now worked entirely on instinct and was incapable of deciphering what was right or wrong. An animal.

I smelled my own blood on my forearm and felt the dryness throb along the walls of my throat, demanding what I craved.

But I wouldn't get it. I was chained here, safely concealed down in my basement in order to protect others around me. Although the hunger was strong and human traits lacking, I was able to relax a little.

Now all I had to do was wait.

.

Dean was bleeding. Not just from the slash in his forearm that he had made himself, but now there was an enormous bite-mark wedged in his side. His face was contorted in suppressed pain, taking in sharp breaths through his teeth as Sam drove the Impala as fast as he could down the road and back to the house.

Kat would have something at the house that could help him. She had to.

"Dean, how are you doing?" Sam asked feverishly.

"I've got a fuckin' bite wound that's big enough to put Jaws to shame; how do you _think _I feel!?"

"I don't get it. I thought that thing didn't attack humans!" said Sam, running his fingers through his hair but otherwise remaining calm. He didn't think Dean was going to die, but he was more worried about what effect the bite would have on him. What if it was the same thing as a werewolf? No, it couldn't be. Sam wouldn't believe it.

"Oh, hell. I don't know! Why don't you go back and _ask _it!?" Dean hissed angrily.

Sam didn't reply. He recognized Kat's driveway and was a little late in braking, causing the tires to screech loudly before he made a sharp left turn. The gravel was spread violently as Sam drove down the long road. He was surprised to see all of the lights turned off when he saw the huddled figure of the little cottage but didn't think twice about it.

He parked the car and hurried to exit, running to the passenger side to help his brother out and let him lean on him. He led him up the porch steps and practically kicked the door open.

"Kat! _Kat! _Wake up!" he called out, heaving Dean onto the couch and promptly turning on the overhead light. He went to examine the bite which had left a nasty stain upon Dean's T-shirt. Wincing slightly, Dean pulled the shirt up. Sam was both relieved to see that the bite wasn't that deep, but also gut-wrenching when he saw how freely the blood was flowing.

"Bandages . . . bandages . . ." he muttered, as Dean let out a little groan of pain.

"Not to add any pressure, Sammy, but this wound isn't healing any faster," Dean grunted.

Sam rooted through the medicine cabinet, under the sink, but found nothing. Where else would there be bandages? He was halfway running back to the kitchen to at least get a washcloth, but he stopped in front of the basement door. Could there be something to help him in there? He wasn't exactly fighting any options by this point.

He tried to turn the handle, but it was locked. Why would Kat lock the door from the other side?

_Kat. _

"KAT!" he yelled, abandoning the basement door and hurling himself towards Kat's bedroom and wrenching the door open. But she wasn't there. Sam stood there, frozen for a few moments. The sheets were throw carelessly aside. He ran to check in the bathroom, but she wasn't there either. He even checked the cabinet and sink there as well. No bandages, but there was a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and washcloths.

He returned to Dean with them, kneeling beside him and lifted up his brother's shirt, revealing the side of his abdomen.

"Would it kill you to grab me a bottle of whiskey?" Dean groaned and Sam was at least glad he still had a spark of his old mannerism.

"Just hold still," said Sam. He dabbed a liberal amount of the peroxide onto the cloth and pressed it onto the wound. Dean inhaled a sharp sigh of pain through his nose and he stiffened slightly, but was otherwise unaffected. Sam then attended to the wound on his forearm.

"I need bandages to keep the bleeding back," said Sam, wiping away a trickle of sweat from his temple.

"Where's Kat?" murmured Dean, shifting slightly so he could get a good look at his wound.

"I don't know."

His brother sat back on the couch, staring up at Sam with furrowed brows.

"Whaddya mean 'you don't know'?"

"I cant find her. She's not in her bedroom."

The little color Dean had regained in the car ride had drained slightly, but he picked back up his assertive demeanor almost at once.

"Great time to go missing on us," he growled impatiently, running his hands along his face.

Sam knew Dean would never admit it, but he suspected he felt a little hurt that Kat wasn't around in his time of need. He himself was particularly dumbfounded as to where she could be, _especially _with a temperature of one hundred point fourteen!

He jumped to his feet, hurrying to the screen door and peering outside. Her father's old red Chevy truck was still parked in front of the house, so she hadn't driven anywhere. He started a quick search of the house, but not only was she nowhere to be seen, but it looked as if she had turned off every light in the building—as if trying to hide.

He walked back into the living room where Dean had shifted himself into a sitting position and appeared to be trying to stand up, to which Sam intervened immediately.

"Whoa, man. Stop," Sam ordered.

"Gotta find Kat," he grunted.

"Right now Kat's not in any danger, and you can't move that wound around. Just stay still while I look for some bandages. Then we'll look for Ka—"

_Thump._

Sam was cut off by a violent noise sounding somewhere from below. Simultaneously, Dean and Sam looked at the floorboards beneath them, then looked at each other.

"Did you check the basement?" Dean asked.

"No," said Sam with a frown, looking over his shoulder to look at the white basement door where the paint was chipping and looked particularly uninviting. "The only place I didn't check. Stop," he added as Dean attempted to get to his feet but let out a small hiss of pain, clutching his side.

"Stay here," ordered Sam. "I'll check it out."

Sam ran into the kitchen first and brought a flashlight out of the utility drawer and edged his way to the door, glancing at Dean behind him who was watching the door with his eyebrows narrowed dangerously.

Sam moved forward, pressing his ear against the worn out wood and listening intently, waving at his brother to keep quiet. He definitely heard something. Like—ragged breathing. As if there was a wounded animal trapped down there.

He hesitated with his hand upon the cold door handle, realizing it was pointless to try and open it the old fashioned way. He backed up a few places, leaning backward and thrusting his leg forward and hitting the door with the sole of his foot. The door did not open, probably due to a great many locks, but the door was so old, however, that he did leave a large, gaping hold in the center of the wood.

A bit hesitantly, he reached his hand inside and began undoing the many locks. Luckily enough, none of them required a key. Why had Kat been so adamant upon locking this door up so securely? It made him both curious and a little apprehensive of what he might find down there. Perhaps the reason she had been acting so peculiar lately?

The door swung open with an eerie _creak, _and Sam was sure now that he heard something shift down below, even a clank of metal. He touched the knife hoisted in his belt, checking to make sure it was still there, bringing it out slowly as he started to creep down the steps.

With the flashlight in his left hand and the knife in his right, he felt pretty capable of whatever he might face.

He reached the basement floor, pointing the beam of his light in the corners of the basement, on the ceilings—but it was difficult to see anything since there were so many arrays of junk piled up on all the shelves that littered the place.

"Find anything yet?" Dean called from upstairs.

"No," Sam yelled back, but he had barely spoken the words when his eyes found a bucket laying lopsided with a large dent in its side. He bent down and examined it. It looked as though it had received an extremely large blow and bounced off one of the walls. Scratching his head, he stood back up and shot the light at the other end of the basement. He walked around one of the shelves, holding the knife tightly between his fingers and readying himself for anything that might come at him.

Yet as he turned the corner of another shelf, he nearly dropped his flashlight. There, in the very back corner of the basement was the huddled figure of—

"Kat!" Sam exclaimed, hurrying to run up to her, but she suddenly let out an angry hiss.

"No, Sam!" she said in an angry, hushed tone. Her back was to him and she curled up against the concrete wall.

Sam stopped momentarily. He suddenly wondered if he was intruding upon girl time or something or another and Kat had come down here to be alone. He was about to ask so when the beam of the flashlight ran over something metal laying across her right thigh. A chain. A thick, silver chain. With further inspection, he realized that it attached to a shackle that was connected to her wrists.

What in the shitting hell was going on.

"Kat," spoke Sam, with a little less certainty. "Kat, what is—"

"Go _away!"_

The voice she spoke in, the way it was coarse and chilling, enough to make the hairs on Sam's arms stand on end—it didn't sound human. He didn't understand and tried to move closer, but she scooted away as much as the chains would allow her.

"Sam, just _leave. _For _God's sake _just _get out of here!"_

"What's going on down there?" Dean demanded from upstairs, yet his voice was so faint, Sam wasn't sure how he had been able to hear anything.

But then he saw the blood. It streamed freely down Kat's forearm and already little streamed dried markings of blood splattered around in various places on the ground. Sam stuttered for words, and awful and morose feeling building up in the pit of his stomach.

"Kat, I—"

But Kat had turned her head towards Sam and all other thoughts were banished from his brain. Her gaze, that bottomless jet-black that extended to the frame of her eyes. Sunken and endless, Sam actually did let go of the flashlight this time and it flew into the air, its beam circulating dizzyingly all around the room until it hit the basement floor and cracked, rendering the room completely dark and still.

* * *

**Tell me what you think? :))**


	12. Baby Brother

**Voila! After leaving that one helluva cliffhanger I present to you the twelfth chapter. I hope you guys are enjoying the pace of the story, since I admit it does kind of take a while to pick up, but I feel it would be unrealistic if everything happened too soon. **

**I want to give out a huge special thanks to those of you who have left their amazing reviews!**

**Anyway, I'll stop babbling.**

TWELVE: Baby Brother

It was taking fiber of strength in my body to cling onto my humanity. All too well I could distinguish Dean's open cut wound from up below and it was as if someone had spilled lighter fluid down my throat and tossed a match. My wrists were restraining so hard against the shackles that I felt the metal material begin to cut into my skin, but the pain was barely recognizable. I watched the flashlight fall to the ground as if in slow motion, the glass and bulb cracking and rendering the room completely black.

I saw Sam fall back and hit one of the shelves so its bearings toppled to the ground beside him. He used his legs to shift feverishly backward, eyes wide as dinner plates.

"D-Dean!" he spluttered, but he was either too afraid or surprised that his voice cracked and I was sure his brother wouldn't be able to hear him.

"Sam, no! Wait! Let me just explain everything!"

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus—" _Sam began chanting the Latin exorcism, clambering to his feet and staring me down with seething eyes.

"Just stop! I'm not a demon! I'm not possessed!"

My heart began pounding so hard against my chest that I feared it would soon leap out of my throat. A sweat broke out along my hairline and my tongue turned dry.

"_Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio . . ."_

Sam frowned slightly when his incantation was proving to have no affect.

"What the _hell _did you do to Kat!?" he yelled, and I was pretty sure he would have gotten Dean's attention by this point.

Dean proved my thoughts right when he shouted the next moment.

"Sam, what's going on!"

"Sam, please," I begged. "Please. _I'm _Kat. I'm the girl you saw this morning. I'm the girl you've known since you were born. I'm _her, _Sam."

Sam's entire face contorted with a mingle of sheer confusion and anger.

"You expect me to believe that!?" he said. From his back pocket he pulled out a small bottle which I recognized as holy water. I stiffened slightly into the wall, my eyes flickering from the bottle to Sam's eyes.

"Sam, I'm not a demon," I said slowly, fighting to form words in my brain. The task itself was a challenge; with the full moon up in the sky, it was meant to rise up a Cor Comedenti's most animalistic instincts and doing something as simple as talking was taking a great deal of my brain power.

Sam's expression didn't faze. He unscrewed the bottle and splattered the water over my face. There was as much effect as the exorcism.

"What are you?" Sam said through clenched teeth. "Shapeshifter?"

"A shapeshifter wouldn't remember your first day of school," I said firmly. "They wouldn't remember how you were so nervous about fitting in that you threw up in the boy's bathroom! I remember, Sam, because I was there beside you in that stall for an hour before you came out!"

I watched as Sam's eyes widen to their frame at my words. He actually took a single step back, the hand that held bottle lowering to his side. He looked terribly conflicted. Dumbfounded.

"Stop," he ordered fiercely, dropping the bottle so it fell tot he ground with a loud _clank. _He folded his hair back with disarray, eyes narrowing down at me with a look of incredulous confusion. "You're—not—Kat."

"Don't call Dean down here—please," I added. "I'm Kat, Sam. I've been hiding this from you the entire time you've been here. I _am _the Cor Comedenti. I'm the reason behind the dead cows. _This _is the reason I left my father. The reason I came all the way out here. Plea—"

"Stop!" he said louder, lowering his head and shaking his head like a mad man.

"Sam!" Dean called more anxiously. I heard the slight shift of furniture as he attempted to get to his feet and felt my heart skip.

"Let me talk to you," I said feverishly, moving forward to get closer to Sam but the chains only allowed me to get within a five feet distance from him. I dangled them in front of him. "Why would I chain myself up if I was a demon trying to hurt you? I can't do anything! So please let me explain!"

Sam stared down at me with a calculating stare as I gazed at him with wide, pleading eyes, even if I knew he could not see me in the darkness.

"How can the Kat I know be a Comedenti if she wasn't when we were younger?" he demanded, but I was relieved to hear that his voice had lowered. "And don't shit me saying she was. I would know."

"No, I wasn't," I said solemnly. "It's—it's a recent condition. I've been like this for a year."

"And how did you _get _like this?" His voice dripped with skepticism and caution. I was at least a little eased that he was listening to me now and wasn't calling down Dean.

"You'll let me explain?" I asked, my breath hitching slightly. Sam looked like he himself didn't know the answer to that and like the majority of his subconscious still didn't trust me.

But: "Five minutes."

A small breath of relief escaped my lips and I looked up at Sam who towered over me. It was rather disturbing watching his eyes in the dark; since most could not see that clearly in the pure darkness, they could not see how much people's pupils dilate.

"It happened a year ago, in Montana," I started slowly. "My father and I were—we were staying in a cottage of his friend's. I don't know. An old hunter buddy." I strained to remember, closing my eyes and trying to ignore the scent of Dean's blood casting itself to my nose.

Sam watched me intently, eyes still filled with weariness, but I had caught his attention.

"On a full moon, like tonight, I woke up with this _pain _in my body. Like someone set me on fire. After it went away, I jumped out of my window and into the forest—and . . . I . . ." but the small figments of that terrible night were still missing from my brain. It had been so long ago. I shook my head. "I don't know," I said again, hopelessly. "I just woke up in the forest, _sleeping _on a deer corpse with its chest ripped open and heart missing. I was so scared that I think my mind blanked out a good half of it."

I paused to let Sam mull over these words. He was still frowning and still every time he looked at me a flicker of fear swept through his eyes, but it was Sam's general nature to listen to people. I feared that if it had been Dean who found me he probably would have stabbed me through the gut by now.

"I remember: shaking from head to foot so hard that I thought I was having a seizure. Sam, I—I didn't know that sort of fear existed." My voice threatened to crack as my mind wavered over the gruesome memory I had fought so hard to forget. There was another beat before I continued. "Somehow I ended up back at home where my father was just getting into his truck. He noticed me gone and was about to come look for me. But he—saw me standing there with blood all down my front.

I thought he was going to shout. I thought he was going to _shoot _me. Hell, I wasn't sure what he was going to do. But probably my last theory was that he would just stare at me, sigh, take me by the shoulder to lead me inside and got me a change of clothes."

I paused again, allowing myself to give a humorless laugh as I leaned back up against the wall again, lifting my head to look at the ceiling with a dry smile. I was opening up old wounds. The flaming anger I felt for my father was rebuilding up once more and it began to pump angrily though my veins.

"He . . . _told _me what happened," I said seethingly, lowering my head to stare into the corner of the basement. My breath had quickened slightly and my face flushed with anger. Once more I heard Dean struggle to get to his feet and I was suddenly overcome by the fear of how much blood he was losing, but I had to make Sam trust me, and quickly.

"For my _entire life, _Sam, he kept this a secret." I looked back up at him. "Your father knew. Jack told him when I was only three."

"But _how _did this happen?" Sam interrupted. His tone was neither convinced nor soft, but still harsh.

I pulled against my chains slightly out of anxiousness, readjusting my position against the wall.

"My mother," I said silently, looking at the ground. "The woman that no one knew. I was only six months when she died. My father never spoke about her. Never. He didn't even have a photo of her and whenever I asked about her he would refuse to talk to me for hours. She was a Cor Comedenti."

Silence. There were a few more yells from Dean but luckily he seemed too indisposed to clamber to his feet and make it down the basement steps.

"Why now?" Sam's voice wavered again. It sounded as though he had something caught in his throat. "Why would it be happening now?"

"I only know from what my father told me in the ten minutes before I learned that he kept this from me, and then I left him," I said. "I shouldn't have, but I was so angry, and so . . . _so _scared." I breathed in a deep breath. "I never expected to see you and Dean again, Sam. It'd been six years since I had any word from either of you. I never thought that you'd come straying into Dry Prong while on a demon hunt. Especially at the time when I became what I am."

Sam heaved a heavy breath, turning his back to me and running his fingers through his hair, resting his hand on the poles of one of the nearby shelves. With his head bent and hand wiping his mouth, I looked at him with swollen hope that he would believe me.

"When you were in seventh grade, what did you and Dean do to the PE teacher as a prank?" Sam asked, straightening up and turning to face me. I was taken aback by the sudden question, but answered immediately.

"Stole his clothing from his locker when he was taking a shower and spread them over the football field," I said. "You yelled at us for twenty minutes."

Sam didn't smile.

"How do I know if you're not just—some mind-tricking demon?" Even if the question proved otherwise, his tone was softening slightly—only slightly. But it was enough to give me hope. Even enough for me to reach forward and grab his hands in mine. I was delighted to find that he was close enough for the chains to reach him.

He did not flinch when I touched him, but he did frown slightly at the temperature of my hands. It would have risen slightly than from this morning due to the moon.

I pulled at him slightly so that he crouched to his knees. He looked at me with the straining uncertainty, but I knew obviously something I had said got to him otherwise he would be running in the other direction.

"Because you know _me, _Sam," I said quietly, holding his hands tightly between mine and staring intently into his eyes. "You should know if it's me or not. Look at me," I added quickly, reaching up and cupping his face with my hands and bringing him closer to me. I felt his small resistance, but did not withdraw. "It's Kat. Your friend . . . your sister. Sam—please."

Maybe it was the vulnerable tone that wavered in my voice that occurred on the last word I spoke—maybe it somehow sparked Sam's memory, or maybe it was just because he had known me for so long, but I watched as his eyes grew wide and comprehension splat right across his face.

"Kat . . ." he said quietly, fading slightly into a question. He shook his head, the understanding softening into something that resembled fear. He backed up suddenly, landing on his backside and staring at me with eyes growing as big as tennis balls. I wished he hadn't moved; I wanted so much for some comforting contact that I almost cried out in protest. "Kat, what—what . . . how_?" _His voice cracked again.

I just shook my head, clasping a hand to my mouth and clenching my eyes shut. It was sick. Even in this moment that I needed to prove so badly that I wouldn't hurt him, I could still hear his blood pumping freely through his jugular vein, painfully exposed.

I swallowed and dared myself to look at Sam again. His expression hadn't changed in the slightest and wore an expression that was appropriate to suggest he thought he was dreaming, or losing his mind.

Yet he did something that took me off guard completely, one of the things that I least expected him to do. He moved forward, dropping silently to his knees and reaching his gorilla-like arms around my body and pulling me into a tight hug. I was temporarily dumbstruck, blinking in confusion as my chin rested against Sam's shoulder. But my body automatically responded to his touch, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck, reaching my arms as far around him as the chains would permit me. With my eyes tightly shut, I allowed myself to be comforted by my 'little brother's' hold. I had always considered him as such. And right now, Sam was proving that remarkable fact by showing me even a trace of love the minute he discovers what I am.

I realized now what the cause of the gaping hole I felt was. In the end, as cheesy as it sounded, all I needed was . . . love.

Sam was my younger brother and Dean . . . Dean was—well, somehow although there had always been the strong bond between us, I didn't exactly see him as a family member. Not by blood anyway. More of an idol or someone to look up to.

_Creak._

I jumped slightly out of Sam's grasp as the noise hit my eardrums. It was unmistakably the loose fifth step on the basement staircase, indicating that Dean had gathered enough strength to venture down the staircase.

Sam heard it too. With a shifty glance at me, he got to his feet and glanced around one of the cluttered shelves.

"Sam, where the hell did you go?" Dean grunted and I suddenly felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. With Dean merely standing about fifteen yards away from me, the aroma of his flowing blood danced in the air and drifted into my nostrils. My entire body flattened into the wall behind me, clutching my hands to my nose and mouth.

I didn't even have the mind power to plead for Sam not to tell Dean that I was here. Closing my eyes shut tightly once more and bending over, I tried to force my thought elsewhere.

_You're human, you're human, you're human._

But in my entire time in becoming a Cor Comedenti, I had never never once been in close contact to a _human _that was wounded so severely, especially on a full moon. Animal blood was enough to sate my thirst temporarily, but the Cor Comedenti was meant to live off of humans. It was hard enough for me to be around anyone when the full moon wasn't up.

"Sam?" Dean said again, almost shouting.

"Here," said Sam weakly, and I felt his gaze remain upon me. I waited with my heart hammering, anticipation crackling across my nerves.

Dean let out a sigh mingled with frustration and relief.

"What the fuck, man?" he demanded as he tried to manage his way around all the clutter in the dark. "I was calling for you. I thought you'd in the belly of some slimy demon by this point."

Sam didn't answer, but also remained immobile. I bit down on my wrist, enough so that I tasted the bitter tang of my own blood. It was occupying me from smelling Dean.

"I don't mean to be a downer or anything, but I'm kind of bleeding out my insides here," said Dean with a faint trace of a laugh. He let out a small 'ow!' as he accidentally bumped into a firm object and there was the sound of several objects falling to the ground. "What took you so damn long? What made that noise?"

I raised my head to look at him. He was glancing in my direction. Looking up, he swallowed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Raccoon," said Sam at last, walking forward and impressively putting on a convincing nonchalant demeanor. I stared after him, wide-eyed.

Sam was entering dangerous territory; he was lying to Dean, his brother, to whom there had always been an unspoken oath to always be truthful to. That may have gone without saying considering they were family, but with the Winchesters there had always been a difference. Growing up in an isolating hunter life with no one but your family to turn to, truth was mandatory because everyone was forced to place their full trust in each other.

And Sam was lying to his brother for me.

"Must have gotten in through the basement door. We'll tell Kat about it."

There was a slight pause.

"Yeah, well I'm not too keen on sitting on my ass here like a ninny when we have no idea where she is," Dean said hoarsely. "I say we go look for her."

My stomach tightened with an unfamiliar sensation at Dean's words.

"Dean, you're not going anywhere with a wound like that. She's fine—I mean, I'm sure she's fine. She's . . ." he faded off quietly. A hint of absolute dubiety still hadn't left his voice and Dean seemed to notice it.

"Hey, man, are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine," answered Sam shortly. "Let's focus on finding some bandages."

Dean paused, but somehow Sam had managed to reach his brother and walk swiftly past him and up the stairs. Dean was hesitant in following, choosing to trail his eyes in the place his brother had walked from. His gaze landed in my general area, but I knew it was far too dark for him to be able to see anything. Yet the way his brows furrowed slightly with a trace of almost suspicion lingering in his eyes, it made me feel like the smallest part of him knew Sam was lying.

I remained still, plain out refusing to breath at this point. Dean lingered there staring off into the dense darkness until Sam hurriedly called him back up the stairs. With a final calculating gaze, Dean turned to limp up the stairs and finally shut the broken door behind him.

* * *

**Tell me what you think? :) seriously, your reviews are like getting early Christmas presents and just make me wanna write!  
**


	13. Blood Confessions

**Updating a little early. I've had this sitting in my doc manager since Friday and I told myself I'd wait until THIS Friday but I'm getting impatient. I want to progress this story ASAP.**

THIRTEEN: Blood Confessions  


"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

I rolled onto my stomach, resting my chin on my arm as I crossed my legs in the air, landing my gaze on a nearby bullfrog that was seated by the pond. Sam and I were seated beneath the shade of the enormous willow tree, its skinny branches swaying in the small breeze. He leaned up against the trunk, absentmindedly ripping grass and weeds between his fingers.

I closed my eyes briefly, breathing in a deep sigh.

"Why didn't I tell anyone, or why didn't I tell you and Dean?" I asked.

"Anyone. I mean, I would have thought that being in your situation, being alone would have been the last thing on your mind. I mean, if it was me . . ." he trailed off, eyes looking up to frown at the house.

I didn't answer immediately, turning my narrowed eyes again upon the frog which had started to croak sleepily.

"I don't know," I said blankly. "I left my dad in such a rush—I was so angry at him that I never wanted to see his face again—and even if I did know where you and your brother were, I couldn't just drop in with my condition. Being on my own just made sense at the time."

There was another silence. My eyes found a small daisy flower in front of me which I hesitantly plucked, twirling it between my fingers and frowning at its yellow center.

It was odd discussing the situation so openly. I had been concealed from everything for over a year, heaving the weight of this secret on my shoulders all on my own. After trying so hard to keep it from Sam and Dean, having it finally revealed I found that I actually felt relieved. A little portion of that weight seemed to be released, leaving me feeling much lighter than I have in a very long time.

"There's something I've been keeping, too," said Sam suddenly, causing my eyes to flicker up to him. He was looking uncomfortable, his brow crinkling slightly as his eyes scanned over the little meadow placed beside my house.

"Something that Dean and I only found out recently," he continued slowly, glancing up at the painfully cloudless blue sky.

I shifted myself slightly, continuing to look down at the flower.

"Who doesn't these days?" I said quietly.

He peered over at me, adjusting his position against the tree and resting his arm against his propped up knee.

"You remember the fire twenty-three years ago. The one that killed my mother." It wasn't exactly a question.

I had been little more than a year old when the incident had occurred, living with my father in a not far off house from John and his family. As I was told, Jack had rushed to the scene as soon as he got word of what had happened. Afterward, it had become John's insane but understandable desire to hunt down the thing that killed his wife, to which my father promptly agreed to joining.

"Lately, I've been having dreams—visions," continued Sam when I said nothing.

"Visions?" I repeated, looking up at him again. "What kind of visions?"

He gave a helpless little shrug.

"Of the future, mainly," he said leisurely.

"How?"

I half-expected him to say 'I don't know' but his jaw locked and eyes set painfully upon the ground. I adjusted my position so I was now sitting on my side and looking at him closely. I was fool to think I was the only one with painful secrets.

"The demon who killed my mother, the demon that Dean and I are hunting now—I was the reason it was there that night."

I could do nothing but frown at him.

"What do you mean?"

"The reason my mom died was because of me," said Sam, his voice wavering slightly. He ran a hand though his hair, looking distraught.

I stared at him.

"How?"

"The blood," said Sam hoarsely. "The demon's blood."

"He . . ." but I didn't finish my sentence. I answered my unfinished question. I understood without really realizing how. The demon in question had fed his blood to six-month baby Sam, granting him the abilities no other human should be able to possess.

The silence pressed on, the breeze rolling against my cheeks and ruffling my hair lightly against my shoulders.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I asked slowly, after another beat.

He looked at me, squinting slightly as the wind brushed aside the branches and leaved his eyes exposed to the sun.

"I was going to tell you anyway, but now that I know what you are . . ." his eyes looked me up and down and he sighed. "I think you could really use someone to relate to. I know what it's like to feel like the freak of the family. You're not alone, Kat."

I felt a rush of elation at his words, swelling up inside me to the surface of my skin. How had I always taken for granted that Sam had such a gentle soul? Instead of casting me aside as an outcast as I so feared they would, he showed love and sympathy—even relevance. Knowing that I could always and forever depend upon Sam gave me an overall feeling of safety.

The little information about the demon blood seemed entirely irrelevant at the moment. Perhaps I should have felt more of a reaction, but maybe after everything I went through in the past year, Sam ingesting demon blood was easy to believe.

I shifted myself up in a sitting position, sliding across my butt to sit beside Sam against the tree, resting my head on his shoulder and smiling slightly, my eyes trailing over the Impala parked in the driveway.

"I love you, Sam."

He adjusted his head slightly so he was looking down at me, smiling back.

"Love you, too."

"Even if I have black eyes and drink cow's blood?" I asked like a child.

He gave a small laugh under his breath, shifting his arm around my shoulder and leaning forward to kiss me on the crown of my head.

"Yep. Black eyes, cow blood, tail, horns—whatever else you got going on there."

"I most certainly do not have a tail and horns," I said indignantly and Sam laughed.

I raised my head slightly to look at the screen door of the house. Dean was in there somewhere, probably still fuming. He had thrown a terrible fit this morning, demanding to know where I had been and why I didn't leave any note, or any warning. I argued back, telling him that I walked to the grocery store to buy some Nyquil and had thought that he and his brother would be out all night.

I didn't like fighting with Dean, but he didn't make it easy. As close as we were, Dean always seemed to dismiss himself from me, like he feared becoming known, or growing _too _close. I had never had this problem with Sam, who whole-heartedly took the part of my younger brother.

"You still have no idea what could have bitten Dean?" Sam asked suddenly and I glanced sideways at him. I released a deep breath, massaging the bridge of my nose.

"No, Sam. After the past ten times you asked me that, no. I was locked up all last night. What exactly happened?"

He gave a small shrug.

"Everything was going according to plan," he said. "Dean drew in the Comedenti by spilling some of his blood and it came—a lot sooner than we thought. Dean was able to stab the thing in the heart, even after the thing took a chomp out of him. thenwe made a run for it and came back to the house. Then I found you."

I watched the wind ruffle the tall meadow grass for a few moments before replying.

"And you're sure it was a Cor Comedenti?" I asked, looking at him.

"Kat, I'm not sure of anything anymore," chuckled Sam. "I just know it was a full moon, it was attracted to Dean's blood, and it was here in Dry Prong. I feel like you would've known if it was here, though. It didn't look human, though. But like Bobby said; a Comedenti is like a shapeshifter. It takes the skin of a victim and its true appearance is forced out on the full moon. Your condition s obviously different. Probably because your father is human."

Yes, I feel like I _would_ have known. How could their be another creature of my traits be wandering around without me knowing, and coincidentally at the same time the Winchesters arrived? Even more strangely, Cor Comedenti didn't live in warm climates such as Louisiana, so the idea that one could be here would be because it was intentionally looking for something—or someone. The brothers maybe?

"Your guess is as good as mine," I said solemnly.

We drifted off into another silence.

Although it was surprisingly great to finally have my secret out, there was still Dean to deal with. I might have been too afraid to admit it before, but I was more fearful for him to find me out more so than his brother.

As if reading my mind, Sam said, "You're going to have to tell him. Eventually."

I peered towards the pond where the bullfrog was now gone, and released a small breath.

"Then why didn't you just let him find me last night?" I asked quietly.

"Do you think that would have been the best way for him to find out? I mean, _I _was quick to assume you were a demon of sorts. Can you imagine what Dean would've done? I think it's better if you tell him, anyway."

I laughed darkly.

"That'll be a cheerful conversation. He won't believe me."

"He will eventually; he'd have to. And you need to tell him. Did you really think you'd live the rest of your life here without us finding out somehow?"

I shifted uncomfortably.

"I dunno. Maybe," I said, running my fingers through my hair and chuckling slightly. "Maybe that was what I hoped would happen. But you just said it yourself. 'Can you imagine what Dean would have done'? He won't understand. Not like—" I was about to say 'not like you', but found that I stopped myself. It wouldn't be Dean's fault for assuming me a horrible monster. Hell, if I was one of them I'd probably kill first, think later.

"I just can't imagine him taking it well," I finished lamely.

Sam actually laughed.

"Kat, I'm pretty sure no one on earth would take this information well. _I'm_ still having trouble believing."

"Yeah, but look at you. You're acting like—like this. It's the same as it was ten years ago. We're still talking, laughing, joking around. I feel like Dean would forever and always change his views on me. Like we would become strangers."

I wasn't sure why, but my voice was to the breaking point and it was becoming difficult to talk. Sam studied me for a few moments, then focused his gaze in the distance. I listened to the wind swaying in the tree leaves, leaving a harmonious whistle.

"That would never happen," said Sam finally and I looked at him. He gave a small shrug. "We've all been through too much together. Dean didn't give up on me when he found out about me, and he won't about you. He can be hotheaded, we both know that, but when it comes down to family Dean'll never leave you."

_I don't want to lose him._

"I know you don't, and you won't. I promise."

Whoops, did I say that out loud?

I sighed, leaning my head against the trunk, gazing up at the tree branches above and closing my eyes.

"You know why Dean acts the way he does around you, don't you?" said Sam.

My brows flinched as if to frown, eyes remaining closed.

"Mmm," I said, only half-listening.

Sam started another sentence, but was cut off by the opening and closing of the screen door and I looked up, watching Dean walk out onto the front porch. His eyes immediately found Sam and me sitting against the willow, and from here I could see his brows furrow slightly.

As soon as Sam caught sight of his brother he unwrapped his arm from around my shoulder and made the space between us more distinct. I gave him a quizzical look which he chose to ignore.

"Hey, Sammy," called Dean. "C'mere."

Sam glanced at me before shifting himself to his feet.

"You have to tell him. Soon," whispered Sam before he turned to walk back to the house. I watched him walk away, pressing my knees against my chest and wrapping my arms tightly around my legs.

I watched the same bullfrog I had been looking at earlier hop out from the bundle of cattails and land a few feet from me. Its mouth inflated slowly, entire slimy body immobile as its unblinking eyes looked up at me. I studied it for a few more moments, then it let out a distinct '_croak' _and it hopped back to the side of the lake and dived back into the water.

I stared after it until the last ripple dispersed on the water's surface, then glanced back at the house.

Tell Dean Winchester about my current condition and risk him changing his entire view on me, losing all of our years of friendship, or stay quiet until he eventually does find out and we most definitely _will _lose our friendship, and I'd lose him.

* * *

**Yeah, I realize the story's pace is a little dragging but I had to include this chapter. I kind of adore writing the relationship between Kat and Sam. **

**Want to give a huge thanks to those of who have left their downright amazing reviews. It's basically you guys that keep me writing and I can't thank you enough :)**

**In answer to SingerLove569's PM, I don't want the relationship between Kat and Dean to be the complete heart of the story, though it holds the majority of the plot. I like romance, but I need to have friendship/brotherly/sisterly love, too. I don't want to just make Sam a secondary character because he's not! I don't even know why that would be an issue. **

**There will be so much Dean and Kat moments, you have no idea. I just need to build gradually up to it.**

**Anyways, if it's not too much trouble, maybe leave a 'lil review telling me what you think? Do you think Kat will eventually tell Dean? What do you think is the thing that attacked him?  
**

**Stay crazy.**


	14. Almost Opened

**Updating early in the morning before I head off to college :D A BIT of a filler chapter but it does have more Dean and Kat moments. I have something special planned for you guys, and I hope I don't disappoint ;)  
**

FOURTEEN: Almost Opened

Five days later, I woke up the sound of a car door slamming shut. I opened my eyes, squinting in distaste at the sun peeking through my curtains. Failing to stifle a yawn and running my fingers through my hair, I stumbled out of bed.

From the living room window, I could see Dean walking around outside in the driveway. I saw the bathroom light on so I assumed that was where Sam was. I walked up to the screen door, frowning at the sight of Dean shifting a bad around his shoulder and placing it in the backseat of his car.

Dean looked up at the sound of the door slamming shut behind me.

"Going somewhere?" I asked, folding my arms lightly.

Dean walked to the car trunk, opening it and revealing the many lethal arrays of weapons.

"We are," said Dean, turning his back on me to handle a rifle, opening it to check its ammo. Flinching it shut, he glanced at me with a small smile. "Ready for a road trip, Kit-Kat?"

I raised my eyebrows.

"We're not supposed to meet my dad until little more than a week from now?" I said uncertainly, walking down the porch steps.

"I want to stop by Bobby's first," he said, shutting the trunk with both hands and looking up at me.

"'Cause of that?" I asked, nodding my head to his ribs where the outline of his bandage was clearly distinguished through his shirt. He absently pressed his hand upon it for a few moments, then lowered it slowly. "Not noticing any demon-like traits, are you Dean?"

"Shut up," he said with a small roll of his eyes. "Already called Bobby 'bout it. Those things don't have cursed bites."

"Then why exactly are we going all the way to South Dakota?"

Dean leaned against the back of the car, frowning in the sun's light and drumming his fingers softly against the paint.

"Don't blow a pistol at me, but he wanted to see you before you took off to your dad's."

"Why?"

"Gee, maybe it's because he's worried about you," he said with raised brows. "Your guys' last conversation on the phone wasn't exactly zippity-doo-da."

I walked to lean against the car beside him.

"Okay, fair enough. I'll keep quiet," I said with a sideways smile, pretend-locking my lips and throwing away the key.

"That's not what I—" he cut himself off awkwardly. He dug his hands in his pockets uncomfortably, shoulders stiffening, as if suddenly disconcerted by our sudden closeness.

"I know, Dean. Don't worry," I said, trying to give him a reassuring smile. He merely looked at me, releasing a short sigh and looking at the house.

"You must be so excited. Givin' up this house to go back to good ol' fashion musty motels that are off the highway with your old Winchester pals. Cold nostalgia, huh?"

I chuckled slightly.

"I dunno. Maybe I'm kind of looking forward to it. It'll be just like old times."

"Yeah, except this time we won't be taking baths together," said Dean in what seemed to be against his will. To my amusement, I watched his cheeks flush slightly. Dean Winchester actually blushing. Someone mark this on the calender. I considered teasing him about it but there was suddenly an odd squirming feeling in my gut-region that stopped me. It tugged from within, leaving a sort of electrical current to ricochet throughout my body.

Oh no . . . not this again. I convinced I had imagined it the night we had done Tai Chi together. Feeling it again made it more difficult for me to deny it. That feeling was going to get me in a heap-load of trouble if I didn't, though.

"And what about the Cor Comedenti?" I asked shakily, determined to change the subject. "You're sure it's gone?"

Dean coughed awkwardly, looking immensely relieved I had shifted the conversation in another direction.

"Stabbed it through the heart with a silver dagger just like Bobby said," he said, recovering himself. He glanced at me. "Should be dust."

I smiled a bit awkwardly at him, trying to discreetly number the distance between us but the tugging feeling wasn't ceasing.

"You know the only thing I have problem with about leaving?" I said. "The woman who owns this house is going to be hella pissed that I'm abandoning my house sitting duties."

"Yeah, well what she doesn't know won't hurt her. When is she coming back, anyway?"

"Next month."

"Then what's the problem?" he grinned.

"My butt-load of clothes."

"Pack 'em up, Kit-Kat. It's time to hit the road."

I give a shifty little nod, awkwardly brushing a stray hair behind my ear before trotting back up the porch steps again. I chance a glance at Dean over my shoulder with the screen door half-open. He was frowning at the ground, hands resting upon the trunk. When his eyes flickered up to me, I turned and re-entered the house.

Sam was in the bathroom, facing the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He glanced up as I approached him, soon spitting out his toothpaste.

"Dean tell you our plans?" he asked, rinsing his mouth with a glass of water.

I nodded.

"Yeah. Sorry for kind of kicking you out of your own house," he said leisurely.

"S'fine. Kind of getting sick of the whole Louisiana redneck scene, anyway."

He gave me a dim smile, but it soon died.

"Do you think your father told Bobby? About everything?"

I hesitated, tucking my lower lip beneath my teeth and releasing a brief sigh out my nose.

"I don't know," I said helplessly. "He certainly didn't know when I talked to him last, but Jack could've told him afterward. Bobby's a close friend of his so I wouldn't put it past him."

Sam rested his toothbrush beside the sink, glancing over my shoulder to see if Dean was around.

"Look, Kat, you have to tell Dean," he said morbidly, voice lowering. "We're going to Washington to see your father who supposedly knows someone who can help you. Going to be a little hard to explain to Dean what's going on when the time happens, don't you think?"

"But how the _hell _am I _supposed _to tell him?" I asked in a hushed whisper. " 'Hey, Dean! Guess what? Forgot to mention it but I've got a little case of heart-eating Cor Comedenti goin' on here! Sorry I didn't tell you earlier!'"

My face turned sour.

Sam watched me with a tender stare.

"The more you delay it, the worse it's going to end up. Honestly, knowing Dean, the part he'll care most about is that you didn't tell him now, instead of when it's too late."

"And not the part that I drink blood."

He made a face.

"Kat, just—_tell _him before we go to your dad. We might have both been raised with him, but he's my brother. I know him better than anyone. And it's nearly been a decade since we last saw you. Dean will want the truth."

I didn't get a chance to answer because I was suddenly aware of a presence behind me.

"What are you girls whisperin' 'bout?" Dean asked airily. How the hell did I not hear him enter the house?

Shiftily, I turned to face him with what I hoped was a nonchalant smile.

"We were just talking about how we needed a few more supplies before we leave," said Sam edgily. "Kat, why don't you go with Dean to the store to get the things we need?"

Dean raised his eyebrows and I shifted a small scowl over my shoulder to Sam who merely gave a thin smile.

"I need to pack," I said slowly.

"I can do that," said Sam. "You're the one that knows your way around town so you know where to go."

Sam Winchester, I swear to God I love you to bits, but you can be a right pain in my ass.

"Alright, whatever," said Dean, with a small shrug. I frowned at his passive comment, placing the knuckle of my forefinger between my teeth and biting down slightly.

I quickly went to my bedroom to change and then out into the living room to find Dean sitting on the couch.

"Ready?" he asked.

I glanced toward Sam who was sitting in the armchair. He gave me a reassuring nod and I faced Dean.

"Yep. Let's go."

Dean led the way out of the front door and to the Impala. I trailed my fingers gently along the paint of the hood. I had always loved this car. At times it had been my shelter on the nights John and the rest of us were too far out in the middle of nowhere and there wasn't a motel in sight. I remembered the days of being tucked away in the backseat with Dean and Sam while John and Jack took the two front seats.

Wouldn't it had just been ten times easier if my father told Sam, Dean, and I way back then about my condition and then it wouldn't have been such a big deal now? I held a lot of blame for my father, but I hardly had any time to talk to him about any of this so I didn't know his entire story.

I hesitate upon opening the door, smiling against my will as an amazing idea trampled into my brain. Dean noticed, eyebrows pushing together.

"Coming?" he inquired.

I grinned slightly, resting my hands upon the side of the hood and arching a single brow.

"Can I drive?"

Dean raised his eyebrows.

.

"Just—don't take your hands off the wheel," Dean said edgily, looking alien sitting in the passenger and muscles tightening.

"It's an automatic. Gotta be easier than driving my dad's Chevy," I said, putting the car into drive.

"I hope you realize how much I'm risking for you. Watch out for that tree!" he added.

I rolled my eyes.

"Don't be a sexist pig," I snort. "I know how to drive, Dean. Whoop!" I added with a guilty laugh, purposefully swerving the wheel slightly to the left.

"God in heaven, don't do that," said Dean, actually placing a hand over his heart.

"Stop being a drama queen. I'm only teasing you."

He shot a glare over at me.

"You couldn't settle for maybe just a provoking comment?"

I grinned at him sideways as we entered the main road.

"I won't hurt your precious baby. You need to calm down, Winchester."

He shifted in his seat, folding his arms like a small child and puckering out his lower lip and making a small pout, which was nothing short of adorable. He looked at me with wide, green eyes.

"Don't give me that look," I said.

"What look?"

"Dean," I warned.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I will drive this car into the bog."

"You can't even joke about that," he said, eyes widening.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"You're just upset because it can make you do anything."

The corners of my lips coiled upward in a large grin as I stared at the road ahead. My chuckle soon turned into a laugh, which Dean soon slowly joined in. I wasn't even sure when something funny happened, but it was as though my body was craving comical relief so badly that the smallest thing was amusing.

Once the laughter started, it became difficult to stop. I turned my gaze momentarily upon Dean whose face was still split in a large grin. My laughter died away slightly, replaced with a small smile.

These moments I cherished. It wasn't every day that Dean and I would have times like these, when we opened up to each other. And by God, did I miss it.

When our gazes met his smile faltered slightly and I saw those walls shoot up up in his eyes, building up brick by brick. He looked instead out the window, slouching slightly in the leather seat.

My insides pulled painfully at his sudden disclosure. I looked back onto the road, chewing on my lower lip and trying to ignore the nagging hurt feeling in my chest.

_Ignore it, Kat, _I told myself. _Dean's just being Dean. It doesn't have anything to do with you._

Yet I remained disquiet.

It didn't take long to get the supplies we needed; mainly snacks for the trip along with some microwave dinners so we could save money instead of going to restaurants every day.

By the time we returned to the house, Dean had barely exchanged a full sentence with me and I was left clueless as to why. All I knew was that it hurt, and I admitted that to myself.

Sam was out on the front porch before I could park the car. He was watching me anxiously through the windshield, obviously looking for signs that I had told Dean. I wondered if he misinterpreted Dean's closed off attitude to meaning that I had. He watched us uncertainly as we exited the car.

"Dean?" he said uncertainly.

Dean looked at him.

"Yeah?" he asked with a lifted brow. This was apparently Sam's answer and he looked at me with furrowed brows.

"Nothing. We're all packed up. Ready to go when you are."

"Great. Let's go now."

Sam didn't take his speculative gaze off me the entire time we loaded the car with my little amount of valuables, but luckily Dean was around the entire time so Sam couldn't say anything.

Everything seemed to be happening very quickly as I got in the backseat of the Impala, eying my house curiously. I realized that I had no doubts about leaving, that my time here was done. I was moving on and leaving the terrible memories of the previous year.

I was setting off on the road with Sam and Dean Winchester just like old times, and despite Dean's attitude, I was looking forward to it. I would have to deal with telling Dean, true, but not now. Not this moment. This moment was mine and it withheld my tranquility.

Though, funnily enough, the only thing I could think of was how confused the house owner would be when she found the chains in the basement.


	15. Weary Suggestions

**Like the new cover? Driving to school this morning, I saw a truck license plate that said 'Kat' and it was probably pathetic of how happy it made me. But I took it as a sign.**

**Kind of scared of updating the chapter, but here you go!**

FIFTEEN: Weary Suggestions

Dean fought to keep his eyelids from drooping. His vision of the open highway road before him was staring to blur slightly. What he would do for a large mug of black coffee mixed with Red Bull. Sounded dangerous but at least it'd keep him awake.

He rubbed his eyes, glancing toward his brother beside him who was pouring over an open text book, small flashlight held between his teeth and eyes focused intently upon the inscription. Upon further inspection, Dean caught sight of the word 'Cor Comedenti'.

"Still lookin' up that crap?" asked Dean hoarsely, clearing his throat.

Sam peered up.

"Just curious to know more about it," he muttered, taking the light out of his mouth and shifting his position in the seat so his back rested against the window.

"What for? Already creamed its ass."

"I'm the bookworm, remember?" said Sam dismissively.

Dean was too tired to answer. His eyes flickered to the rear view mirror where there was a clear view of Kat snoozing peacefully in the backseat, her head resting on the window and eyes softly closed. For the most part of the drive, she remained quiet back there and merely gazed out of the window, only talking if one of the brothers asked her a question. She seemed disquiet about something, yet Dean was at a loss as to why.

He looked back at Sam to see he had been caught staring.

"What?" said Dean defensively.

Sam sighed, closing the book and stuffing it in the door pocket.

"Maybe we should stop. You're pretty beat."

"Ah, hell naw. We've just entered Oklahoma. I can go on for a lot lo-lon-longer . . ." yet ironically enough, Dean tried and failed to stifle a yawn at the end of his sentence.

Sam pressed his lips together.

"Want me to at least drive so you can get some shut eye?"

"Nah, man. You're just as tired as me," said Dean stubbornly.

Sam glanced out of the windshield.

"Let's as least get some coffee. Twenty-four hour Dunkin' Donuts right up ahead," he said, pointing at the blue sign on the side of the road. Dean didn't see the harm in it so he took the next exit. The town wasn't so much a town as much as a few gatherings of small establishments. As it turned out, the Dunkin' Donuts was apart of a nearly deserted Shell gas station so Dean parked by one of the pumps.

"Want anything?" Dean asked tiredly as he got out of the car, leaning over to look at his brother.

"No, dude. I'm good."

Dean glanced to the backseat window where Kat was leaning against, still fast asleep. He meant to tap upon the glass to repeat his question, but something in her sleeping face stopped him. She looked so content, so tranquil in a manner that made Dean wonder if he had ever truly seen her as so beforehand.

Dean closed the door, walking to the little building. He blinked rather rapidly at the white lights that illuminated the inside. Not that many people were there. An employee behind the counter, and a gather of few guys sitting at one of the booths in the back. All of them were wearing red and black hunting attire. They looked blatantly like a crowd of rednecks, all hunched over their cups of coffee. One of them looked up in interest as Dean approached the front counter, planting a thirty dollars on the surface.

"Thirty on number eight," he said. The cashier grunted his answer, pushing the buttons on the register. "Can I also get a large cup of coffee? Black. Ooo. And a coupla chocolate frosted donuts."

The man grunted again and Dean grinned.

"Thanks."

He turned to lean against the counter while his coffee was being prepared. His gaze flickered momentarily upon the rednecks who were all, strangely enough, staring at him. They didn't look away when he made it clear he had caught them, which made it all the more creepy. He gave a short, awkward smile before glancing out at the Impala. He could dimly make out the figure of Sam and watched the darkened street outside until the cashier spoke to him.

"Black coffee and three chocolate frosted donuts. Five-twenty-two," he said dully.

Dean paid up and went to the the counter to fetch one of the lids. He glanced up as one of the men rose silently to his feet and started walking toward Dean. He eyed him closely, holding his coffee and bag of donuts tightly between his fingers.

"That 'yer car out there?" inquired the man.

Dean did a quick double take with his eyes to the car, then back to the man.

"That would be mine," confirmed Dean. It was hard to keep the tone of pride out of his voice.

"You got anyone travelin' with ya'?"

Dean took a mental step back at the bizarre question. A few seconds ago he was sure he was going to receive praise for the fabulous vehicle as it had happened many times before, but what the redneck said took him completely off guard.

"What?" Dean said.

"You got anyone travelin' with ya'?" the man repeated.

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"What exactly is it to you?" Dean asked, glancing over the man's shoulder at his group of friends who were all watching him with the same speculating gaze.

The man did nothing but glance out at the Impala again, and Dean could have sworn that his stare was focused specifically upon the backseat. He looked back at Dean again who was now staring at the short man with furrowed brows.

The redneck turned and walked back to his table, seating himself down and taking a sip of his drink. Dean considered going after him to perform an interrogation, but second guessed it. He didn't want to make a scene and right now he really wanted to get back on the road.

He left the building, taking a large gulp of his coffee and shuddering slightly as the liquid burned the roof of his mouth. He quickly filled the car up on gas. As he screwed in the gas cap, he peered into the window to get another look at the group, but they had gone.

"What's the rush?" Sam asked as Dean got promptly in the car and drove off at full speed down the road, checking his rear view mirror, but no one was following them.

"Shady people out there, Sam. Just want to at least get to Oklahoma City before we stop."

He continued checking the mirror until they were back on the highway. He didn't feel much tired anymore and was glad he had a few hours of driving ahead; it would keep his mind off things.

.

Dean parked the car just outside the bed and breakfast, releasing a loud yawn and rubbing his itching eyes.

"Hey," said Dean, prodding his brother on the shoulder. He jerked awake, gazing around in confusion. "Wakey wakey. Mind getting us a room while I wake up Kat?"

Sam yawned, rubbing his face and sitting upright. He left the car and shuffled toward the front office. Dean strode out of the car, walking to the backseat door opposite Kat and opened it. He seated himself beside her, who stirred slightly as he shifted himself closer. Why did he feel so guilty waking her up? It was so hard to conflict with the peace etched on her face. It made him realize he had rarely seen within her the past week he had spent with her.

"Kat," he mumbled tiredly, placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently. She didn't wake, but released a small snore that made Dean smile slightly. "C'mon, Kit-Kat . . . don't make me carry you . . ."

He didn't get much a reaction from her beside the fact that her head rolled doll-like and suddenly rested against his shoulder. Dean stiffened slightly, feeling her soft breath brush against the skin of his neck. She nestled herself more comfortably against him, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder and breathing deeply.

He felt so awkward, not sure whether to move or wake her up and have her find that she had fallen asleep against him. He merely made a few uncertain vowel sounds, arms ungainly spaced as if afraid to move. He tried not to become too aware of how warm her skin felt on his, or how her breath would tickle his skin—and how it was creating a small tingling sensation throughout his nerves.

He placed a hand on her shoulder again, shaking her with a bit more vigor.

"Kat? Um, time to . . . um . . ."

Why was he having such a mind block all of a sudden?  
He looked down at her to find her eyelids flickering. God, finally. She must have been exhausted. With her hand resting upon his chest, she raised her head unsteadily, squinting in the darkness. Her eyes found Dean and she seemed just as confused as he was to find herself in this situation.

"What . . ." she muttered, rubbing her eyes with bawled fists, resembling a small child. In the small light from the street lamp above, Dean could see how dilated her eyes were. Irregularly dilated. So much in fact, that it seemed to cast out any of her hazel color. Dean frowned but accepted that it could have simply been too dark for him to see things properly or he was just far too tired.

"We're at a bed and breakfast," Dean said as Kat yawned silently. She didn't seem to be awake enough to recognize the awkward situation because she merely pressed her head against his chest again. Dean pressed himself further into the leather seat, trying to escape the sensation he was undergoing. His throat was very dry and he couldn't recall when his heart had started pounding so fast.

_C'mon, _he begged mentally.

Kat murmured a few uncomprehending words that consisted of 'sleepy' and 'five more minutes'. God, she was really out. Dean groaned, running his hand over his face. He just wanted to get some rest. He had been driving for twelve hours straight and he was ready to pass out.

Heaving a sigh, he gently pried Kat off him and exited the car. He walked to the other side and opened the door. He collected Kat into his arms, holding her tenderly. He was surprised to find she was a lot heavier than she looked, and realized she would decapitate him if he ever told her that. Her unconscious body responded immediately by wrapping one arm around his neck and resting the side of her head against his chest.

Kicking the door shut, he got five yards away from the car when Sam exited the office and stopped, staring at the scene of Dean holding Kat bridal style.

"Little punk wouldn't wake up," he grunted in explanation. "You have the room keys?"

Sam nodded, looking half-asleep with his eyelids drooping.

Luckily, Dean didn't have to carry Kat up the stairs because Sam was able to snag a nearby room. Inside was blissfully cool. It was decorated in a sort of 'cabin in the woods' fashion. There was a stuffed moose head hanging above a large stone fireplace and the walls and flooring were cedar wood. It smelled slightly of artificial lemon cleaning supplies.

But there was a problem Dean had not foreseen. Two beds sat side-by-side and Sam had already plopped down on the nearest one. He glanced down uncertainly and the snoozing Kat in his arms, sucking in a sharp breath.

Years ago, it wouldn't have been awkward to share the same bed with her, but that was when they were children. Age had changed the level of awkwardness to the point where it was no longer acceptable to do such a thing. Dean honestly wouldn't have minded, not if it meant he could have a bed to rest on. Yet he wasn't sure how Kat would think of it, so it was now not an option.

But he was most certainly not sleeping in the same bed as Sam.

So he walked to the second bed, placing Kat's body tenderly upon the mattress, lifting up her feet slightly so he could pull the covers over her. The action made her stir slightly and her eyes opened a small portion.

"Mmm, Dean?" she whispered, her voice cracking slightly from lack of use.

"Yeah?" he murmured absently, lifting up her head gently so it could rest more easily upon the pillow.

Then she did something that caught him completely off guard. She reached out, touching his cheek gently with the tips of her fingers. She was smiling, but Dean could tell she was still barely conscious and that anything she did now she would not remember in the morning.

"I'm sorry," she said, just as quiet. Dean glanced to his brother on the other bed, who had fallen fast asleep before even getting properly beneath the covers.

He looked back down at Kat. Slowly and hesitantly, he placed his own hand upon hers that was still resting on the side of his face. He felt so cold in comparison. Her touch was pleasantly similar to that of a warming up furnace, and Dean was too tired to consider whether that was a good thing or not.

He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes briefly before remembering what she had just said.

"What do you mean?" he asked, just about falling over on top of her and passing out.

Her smile flickered slightly.

"Just—sorry. For everything. For not telling . . ."

Her eyes closed again and her hand fell limp. Dean released it and it fell gently to her side. She turned over so that her back was now facing Dean, and he stood there, confused by what she had just said. He did a small double take from his brother to the sleeping girl in front of him.

Sometimes he wondered if he was the odd man out, if Sam and Kat were perhaps whispering behind his back about things they shouldn't. The idea was always dimly planted in the back of his mind, yet he could always feel it there, taunting him.

Because of Kat and Sam's closer age, Sam had always held a part of Kat that Dean could never touch, and Dean was never sure how he felt about that. He merely knew that whenever he thought of the concept his insides squirmed irregularly.

He had always suspected that there might have been something . . . more between the two. He had caught them kissing ten something years ago for crying out loud. Perhaps after six years apart it had been enough time for other feelings to resurface.

Dean ran his tongue over his lower lip, watching Kat's body rise softly up and down in time with her even breathing.

Well, if that was indeed the case, who was he to try and get in the way?

He stood up straighter, wrenching one of the extra blankets off of the the armoire and seating himself down on the squishy armchair, staring grumpily at Kat's figure under the blankets. He attempted shifting into a more comfortable position, but it was in vain. Yet he was too tired to be picky.

He leaned his head on the back of the chair, closing his eyes, falling asleep with a frown on his face.

.

I had a dream that I was flying. Not myself, but being carried by a being with long, white, feathery wings attached to their back. The air was cool, brushing pleasantly against my cheeks and ruffling my loose hair about.

A sense of serenity and safety overwhelmed me, encasing me like an enormous, warm blanket.

I looked up at the stranger, hoping to identify him or her somehow, yet they were faceless. Not in an intimidating manner that made it frightening, but there was such a bright, white light beaming so strongly that it made me unable to make out their facial structure.

Yet almost by the way they held me, how their grasp was almost a form of protectiveness and the muscle I felt through their clothing, I would have a guess that they were male. Strangely, not knowing their identity didn't bother me.

I continued to soar with the same blissful and weightless feeling until my eyes suddenly jerked awake. I was confused as to where I was, assuming I was still in the Impala. But the surface I rested on was far too comfortable to be the car's leather interior. Upon sitting upright, I found my location to be some motel room. The air smelled strongly of cedar and lemon.

I stretched, releasing a small yawn and gazing around. I didn't remember stopping here or leaving the car. Had one of the brothers carried me here? That's a bit embarrassing.

I noted that neither of them were in the room, and guessed they had probably gone for breakfast already. Stretching my arms skyward once more, I stumbled ungracefully out of bed, stepping over a woolen blanket that was tossed carelessly on the wooden floor.

Upon exiting the room, I discovered it was late morning with the sun almost hanging in the center of the cloudless sky. It was truly a beautiful morning. I shifted a sad gaze over the Impala parked not far off. I had had to call a mechanic friend of mine in Dry Prong to look after my fathers Chevy until I came to pick it up. I would have preferred to bring it, and I knew my father would be disappointed, but there was little I could do about it.

I could hear a small creek run from somewhere nearby, the chirping of morning birds mingling their tunes with harmonious rhythm of nature. Breathing in a deep breath, I caught the scent of baking food from the chimney stationed on the hotel roof.

If there was anything to be gained from being a monster, it was how the acute senses seemed to make me aware of my surroundings perfectly at all times.

I entered the hotel restaurant, a bell ringing as the door swung open. I caught sight of the brothers almost at once. They were seated in one of the closer booths, plates of food placed in front of them. They both looked up as I approached, seating myself beside Dean.

"Sleep well?" he inquired, taking a bite of his breakfast burrito.

"Like a baby," I said, leaning my chin on my elbow and shifting him a wry smile.

"Yeah, I noticed," he muttered, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "You point out refused to wake up last night."

I noticed Sam cracked a small grin up to his brother and glanced between the two. I didn't comment, however.

"What's the game plan for today?" I asked, reaching forward and snagging a home fry off of Dean's plate who shot me a furious look.

"We're going to take Route 77 to eastern Nebraska," said Sam, glancing at Dean. "S'about a sixteen hour drive, but we should be at Bobby's sometime tomorrow in the late evening."

I nodded. I was actually looking forward to my reunion with Bobby Singer. The last time I could recall seeing him was a werewolf incident in Wyoming when I was fifteen. I was still worried of what information my father could have spilled to him, but Bobby was not only not an idiot, but a good man. I knew he wouldn't reveal my secret to the brothers(or more specifically Dean)without at least hearing my side of the story first.

"Where in Nebraska?" I asked, absentmindedly reaching for another fry off Dean's plate but he promptly swatted my hand away, merely giving me a pompous look as I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Hickman. It'll be our last stop before we get to Bobby's," said Sam.

Hickman? Oh my.

"That mean somethin'?" asked Dean, obviously noting my disquiet expression.

"No," I said, shifting my position in the booth seat. I paused. "Yeah. Well, kinda. Not really."

Dean lifted an eyebrow.

"Really. Your specificness deserves an award," he said.

"I know someone in Hickman," I said, twirling a fork on the surface of the table and staring intently down at it, as though it suddenly fascinated me.

"Who?" asked Dean, his voice turning slightly as he shifted his body to look at me, eyebrows narrowed.

I felt my face redden slightly. I scratched my cheek awkwardly, continuing to spin the fork between my middle and forefinger.

"Friend," I said shortly, still not meeting either of the brothers' stares.

"Hunter friend?" questioned Sam.

I nodded once, nibbling on my lower lip.

"Who is he?" asked Dean.

"I don't think you would know him," I said, twirling the fork faster on the table's surface. "Angelus DeNaro?"

The brothers' eyebrows rose in unison.

"Did you used to hunt with him or something?" asked Dean.

"Sorta," I said evasively, abandoning the fork and watching it fall over on the wooden surface. I sat back in my seat, absently intertwining one of my fingers in my hair.

"What, is he like an old boyfriend or something?" Dean asked with a small laugh that suggested he thought the concept to be unlikely. Sam glanced at his brother, lips twitching as if to say something, but held his tongue.

I folded my arms across my chest, saying nothing and imagining my face must have resembled the color of rust. The small silence appeared to be Dean's answer. His smile faltered slightly. Sam's eyebrows merely continued to rise.

I was beginning to feel all the more awkward, starting to think that bringing up Angel wasn't a very good idea. My entire life up until recently I had had no connections involving romance. It wasn't something my father heavily advised considering my life as a hunter, and more so because of being a Cor Comedenti. No one wanted a girlfriend that ate hearts to survive, and was crazy more than one time out of the month.

My relationship with Angel happened five years after parting with the Winchesters and beforehand I had never so much as kissed a guy apart form Sam, yet that hardly counted. So the idea of bringing up an ex to the two brothers was simply strange. I halfheartedly wondered if they just merely assumed I never did any of that stuff.

"And—you're bringing this up because?" Dean asked pointedly without looking at me, taking a curt sip of his coffee.

"If we're heading in Hickman, I could—I don't know—hit him up and we could stay the night there instead of paying for a motel," I suggested with a dim shrug.

The following silence was a tad too awkward for my tastes. I suddenly wondered if the idea was too weird for the brothers, that staying at an old boyfriend's house was just plain out wrong. I hadn't left him on necessarily good terms, after all. I wasn't even sure how he would feel about us staying the night at his house.

"Also, it'd be nice to see him," I said in attempt to keep the conversation rolling and feeling my face heat up again.

Please, please say something.

Sam wasn't look at me; his eyes instead were on his brother who had continued to eat the remnants of his burrito, seeming to close himself off from the conversation entirely. I resisted the urge of nudging him irritably in the side.

"Well, _I _think it makes sense," said Sam after a few more condensed moments and I relaxed my muscles. We both looked at Dean who had a mouth full of eggs. Feeling our stares, he looked between us.

"What?" he said in a muffled tone.

"How do you feel about stopping at . . . Angelus'?" asked Sam with an uncertain glance toward me. "Before heading to Bobby's?"

Dean swallowed his food, crinkling a napkin in his hand and patting it gently on his mouth. Without so much as looking at either Sam or me, he shrugged.

"Whatever."

Although his answer wasn't entirely reassuring, I was relieved we had settled the matter.

"Good. I'll call him once we're done eating," I said, glancing at Dean sideways uncertainly.

I met Sam's eye and he was giving me a significant look, and over the years I'd come to realize it meant he had something he wanted to talk to me about. I can only imagine what. Yet I promptly set my gaze elsewhere, ordering from the waiter and trying to calm my nerves.

Seeing Angel was a good plan. I would be able to reminisce over the days where I was not a 'demon', catch up, and settle down for a few hours before heading to Bobby's. It was a good idea.

Right?

* * *

**Longish chapter, hope not too long. Tell me if you would like the updates to be shorter, or this length is fine - or whatever. I am open to suggestions :)**

**Now, the reason being I was so hesitant upon uploading this was because in no way do I want this to be coloring in as a teenage drama, or whatever. This is Supernatural, not Degrassi, but I thought it'd be interesting to see what kind of trouble Kat's ex could stir up.**

**Anyhoo, what did you think about the redenecks in the beginning? Dean carrying in the sleeping Kat, her dream, or that I am introducing an old boyfriend of hers?**

**If it's not too much trouble, I would love it if you left a review telling me your thoughts!**


	16. Tall Jumps

**I have literally been re-watching countless hours of season 2 Supernatural episodes just to get back in the feel of it, and needless to say, I think my roommate is now concerned for my health. **

**Going back I realize how much I miss old Dean and Sam and the simple demon hunts. Cold nostalgia, eh? Now everything is huge and complicated, not that I don't still love our favorite Winchester brothers. I have forgotten how immature Dean used to be, though!**

**Anyway, I'm ranting again. Enjoy!**

SIXTEEN: Tall Jumps

"This is a bad idea," muttered Dean to Sam, burying his hands deep in his pockets as Kat pressed the doorbell. His eyes scanned the tall frame of the white, two story house. It was placed in a quaint, quiet little neighborhood which, for some reason, made Dean scowl. He hated seeing the lifestyles of other hunters who seemed to be living the life he wished he had. Dean was afraid of admitting it to himself mostly because doing so would make the pain more vivid, but he always craved for the simple, white picket fenced, apple pie life.

There was a small sprinkle starting from the morbid sky above and Dean was at least glad they arrived when they did.

"You're really saying that after over sixteen hours of driving?" said Sam tiredly, glancing at his brother with sardonic brows.

"We don't know him," argued Dean.

"Kat knows him," Sam shrugged.

"What's wrong with just finding another motel?"

"Because Kat wants to see an old friend? Dean, I really don't see what the problem is. It's only for the night."

Dean decided not to answer, adjusting the collar of his jacket as the three waited for Angel to answer the door.

Sam watched his brother with a tentative stare, breathing out a sigh. He wasn't sure how meeting an old boyfriend of Kat's would affect the situation, or moreover, Dean. He knew he would never admit it, but Dean was an extremely sensitive person and little things tended to tip him off, no matter how well he was at concealing it.

Putting aside Dean's personal conflicts, Sam was extremely curious on what this Angelus would know about Kat. He guessed that since they broke up a year ago, the reason being was that Kat left him after discovering what she was. He suddenly fell disquiet when he realized that if wasn't for her bloodline, she might have still been with him, happy.

What if none of this had happened and Kat would have still been with this man, maybe eventually get married, and have children of her own? Now none of this was remotely possible because of what she was.

Sam laid a sad gaze on the girl standing on the doorstep, hugging herself and shifting a small smile to him over her shoulder.

No matter how 'monstrous' she had become, she still held so much innocence. So much in fact, that Sam wasn't sure that Kat had even come to terms with the fact that she would never under any circumstances have that happy life.

Without meaning to, Sam glanced at Dean with slightly furrowed brows.

If only his brother wasn't so thick-skulled . . .

The door opened, revealing a tall frame of a man. He was broad shouldered, dark skinned, and resembled the human form of a bear. Dean blinked, mouth parted slightly as he stared up at him. The man's face split in a large, white-toothed grin as he saw Kat standing on his doorstep. He immediately swooped down and scooped Kat into a large bear hug that was so excessive that her feet lifted from the ground a good few inches.

"Katnip!" he exclaimed, placing her back down on her feet and resting his hands on her shoulders. She looked extremely wind blown, but was grinning widely.

_Katnip!? _Dean thought angrily. _**I'm **the one to give her the stupid nicknames!_

"It's good to see you, Angel," said Kat with a small smile as she looked up at the beast. "You cut your hair."

"Angel? Is it her? Let me see," said a woman's voice from behind. Angel looked around and a young, short-haired woman arrived at his side. Looking at the matching skin color and same round, dark eyes Dean could only guess that she was a part of Angel's family.

"My, oh my," the woman said with her hands on her hips and looking Kat up and down with a coiling grin. "Still as cute button, I see."

"What's with the cold welcome, Chris?" grinned Kat. "Gimme a hug."

The woman let out a little laugh, then the girls embraced tightly. Dean felt an unfamiliar pang from within. He couldn't explain it, but seeing Kat with a female companion was nice. She had been brought up entirely around a male-revolved world and had inherited many masculine traits, making it difficult for her to so much as make a single friend at any of the schools they went to.

When she did, however, she much rather preferred to play in the mud, climb trees, or play four squares with the boys rather than play dolls with the other girls.

So the fact that Kat had a female friend was strangely comforting to Dean. It gave an illusion of normality.

"Come on in then," said Angel, beckoning her in the threshold. "Chrissy's got her legendary lasagna cookin' and I want to hear what you've been up to."

"Oh, I've—" but Kat cut herself off as she glanced at the two Winchesters that were standing there awkwardly, the distance slightly distinct. Up until this moment, Angel and the woman hadn't taken any notice of the brothers.

"Angel, Chris, this is Sam and Dean Winchester. Sam, Dean—Angel and his cousin, Christine."

Sam smiled and greeted the two while Dean gave a stiff little smile, nodding his head. He watched as Angel's stare switched between the pair of him.

"We're—"started Sam.

"Oh, I know who you are," interrupted Angel, and Dean raised his eyebrows. He couldn't tell whether they were going to be reprimanded or not. "Winchester boys. Little Kat's told me all 'bout you two."

"Good things I hope," said Dean airily.

"Only the best," he said leisurely. "Gotta say. I'm a little jealous you boys got to spend the majority of your lives with this girl," he said, jerking his head down at Kat, to which she smiled awkwardly in response. "Girl's like dynamite, in a good way of course," he added.

"Dynamite," Dean repeated flatly, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet and deepening his hands in his pockets, contemplative expression.

After a short pause, Chris spoke up.

"Well, what are we all standin' out here for? It's startin' to rain and I have dinner ready."

The five of them entered the house, Dean and Sam awkwardly inching their way past Angel's enormous figure. Dean was sure he felt his eyes upon him as he made his way inside the warm home. It was low ceilinged, narrow walled, and the bizarre shoe boxes along with other various metal knick knacks on the high shelves made Dean feel like he had just set foot in some overlarge doll house. It seemed most unfitting that a man like Angel would live in a house like this. The contrast was almost creepy.

"Ow!" Sam spat who had been examining a disturbing porcelain doll with no eyes only to turn and hit the top of his head on the low door frame. Dean snorted.

"Oh, sorry, hun," cooed Chris. "This house is extremely old and made back when people weren't exactly tall as us. And you're roughly the size of my cuz," she added, looking him up and down with speculative brows. "Why don't ya'll give me your jackets an' I'll 'em up for you?"

Once gathering all of their coats, she led them in the dining area which was irregularly spotless, unlike the rest of the house. On the burner there was a teapot whistling which Chris hurried to attend to.

"Tea, anyone?" she asked as the three seated themselves down at the table. Dean felt extremely out of place, and by the way Sam's fingers were folded and slightly hunched figure, he guessed he wasn't the only one.

He met accidental eye-contact with Kat who was sitting opposite him. He was about to say something when Angel seated himself beside her, scooching his chair a few inches closer and stealing her attention away. Dean didn't pay attention to the mug of Chai tea that was just placed in front of him but was eying the two wearily.

"Kat, Kat, Kat," said Angel with a small laugh, placing a large hand on Kat's shoulder that was nearly as big as her face. "_Where _have you been, girl? Gotta say; wasn't expectin' that call from ya. After all that happened." He let out a laugh, yet it sounded much more like a dog's bark. "But, boy am I glad you're here."

Kat tried to smile, yet it looked ungainly.

"After everything that happened," she echoed quietly. "You're—not mad." It wasn't a precisely a question, but her eyebrows were raised. By her silent tone, it was evident that she wasn't exactly keen on the Winchesters listening in on this conversation, but Dean's gaze didn't waver.

"Hell naw. How could I stay mad at you?" said Angel. "I mean, sure. I'm damn curious as to why you left me with almost no word, but you know me; I can't hold a grudge."

Dean wasn't sure, but toward the end of his sentence he sensed his tone had stiffened slightly. He eyed the giant with a squinting stare. Angel must have sensed it; his black gaze shifted from Kat to him and his eyebrows lifted.

"You, of course, was raised with her? Must know her left and right," Angel said. Kat's eyes hardened as she looked between the two.

Dean smiled.

"Sure do," he said. "Shoulda seen her as a kid. Like a firecracker."

"I bet," said Angel thoughtfully, leaning on his elbow and smiling in a manner that Dean didn't like. "Though, according to what Kat tells me, this is the first time you've seen her in six years. Quite a long time."

Dean's smile flickered slightly. The pitter patter of the rain on the roof was becoming more distinct and seemed to make the silence all the more tense.

"Your point being?" Dean said as Chris started serving hot plates of steaming lasagna.

"Well, you missed the years that Kat was actually growing into a woman, the most important time in her life," said Angel in an airy tone and looking down to stab the noodles on his plate with a fork. Dean's jaw tightened slightly.

"And?" he said shortly, still smiling in what he hoped was a passive fashion.

"Pretty shitty time to leave her, don't you think?" said Angel with a small shrug, as if it was obvious.

Dean began to chew on his cheek out of irritation. He was dimly aware of Sam's concerned stare and Kat's worried one.

"He didn't leave me," said Kat firmly. "Neither of them did. We just went our several paths. Can someone pass the salt?" she added in a higher tone that was desperate to get off the subject. She evidently did not picture this dinner going like this.

Angel merely shrugged and took a bite of his food.

"Dean," said Sam in an undertone. Dean looked at him, and he nodded at his hand. He looked down and discovered he had been clenching his fork so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He released it, rubbing his face and coming to the conclusion that coming here was just as a terrible idea as he predicted.

Everything seemed to be settling down until Kat finally reached for her own fork and suddenly wrenched her hand backward as if she had been bitten. Everyone looked at her. She was staring at her three fingers, then frowning down at the silverware.

"Something wrong?" asked Angel.

"Um . . ." she made eye-contact with Sam who was watching her steadily, then shifted a small smile to Angel. "No. I just forgot to wash my hands. Where is your bathroom?"

"Down the hall, last room on the left," said Chris. She and her cousin exchanged looks.

"Hey, I forgot, too," said Sam suddenly, also getting to his feet. Dean frowned at the pair of them walking down the hall, almost running after them, but refrained from doing so. When had Sam or Kat ever cared about dinner cleanliness, and why couldn't they have used the kitchen sink?

He had more pressing problems however when he realized he was left alone with Angel and Chris. He smiled coldly, steely gaze set on Angel.

"Good grub," he said.

.

I shut the bathroom door tightly behind me, turning to find Sam slightly hunched over so as not to have the top of his head graze the low ceiling.

"They have pure silver silverware," I grumbled irritably.

"I thought it would be something like that," said Sam slowly. "But there's still some pieces missing. Holy water doesn't work but silver does?"

"It's like a shapeshifter. A Cor Comedenti isn't technically a demon but some things do work, like silver, salt, and devil traps. I'm not sure what else works on a real Comedenti, but with my father being human I think some of the effects vary."

It was becoming hard to speak. My throat was still burning an itchy throb that pumped against its walls.

I remembered my father's warning on the voice mail, saying that it was important that I fed to keep my "inner demons" tamed. Yet that was next to impossible when I traveled with Dean and Sam. I couldn't exactly go out 'hunting' when we were in the middle of an exhausting road trip.

There was a sticky pause. Sam's gaze was set upon the mirror which I dared myself to look at. My eyes didn't usually shift their coal-black color unless I was undergoing severe states of stress, but these days when meeting my reflection the fear always remained

"Kat," said Sam and I looked back up at him. "You know what I'm going to tell you."

"I have to tell Dean," I said, closing my eyes.

"You have to tell him and you have to tell him before we get to Bobby's," he said and I stared at him.

"Before we . . . ?" I said, my lips parting. "Sam, that's tomorrow, with a long ass car ride in the middle. How am I supposed to tell him before then?"

He gave me a tiring look.

"Then tonight," he said, and my heart failed. "I don't want Dean to find out from Bobby, or your father. Dean needs to hear this from you. I'm here for you, Kat. We can tell him together, but it has to be soon."

I placed up a hand, asking for a moment. Sam obliged and fell silent. I pressed my hand hard against my mouth, glancing back at my reflection again. Mirror me didn't look as terrified as I felt. Her eyelids were half-closed, expression merely concerned.

I listened to the rain pouring ever more outside, getting louder and louder. I had have always been more of a weather-influential person, so the sound was slightly comforting.

I closed my eyes again, pressing my lips together and bowing my head momentarily. I looked back up at Sam, opening my eyes.

"If I'm doing it tonight, I want to do it myself," I said and when Sam opened his mouth: "I don't know. Dean's so defensive. I feel like if it was both of us he would feel like we were ganging up on him somehow."

"Not if it's something _this _serious," said Sam with a small incredulous chuckle.

"But you know how he is. He would feel the odd man out, kinda like a kid being told something serious by the parents—vulnerable. I don't know," I said again, hopelessly.

Sam sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

"Honestly, I thought you'd prefer me to be there to back you up. But whatever you think is best, Kat." His skeptic tone wasn't very reassuring but I took a deep breath, rubbing my tired eyes and nodding.

"I can do this. I want to. Thank you," I added.

He smiled, if a bit weakly.

"Do you remember that giant, forty foot tall rock that was in that lake in South Carolina that John and Jack brought us to?" he asked.

I smiled sadly. I was eight at the time and the excursion was one of the spare few that our fathers made to give us a piece of childhood. I nodded.

"There was a huge crowd of boys all huddled on the top of the rock, Dean and me included. You were the only one to jump off." There was a small pause. "When you think about it metaphorically, this situation isn't that different. You just have to jump."

I grinned at him uncertainly.

"Okay, Mr. Insightful Pants. I get it. Jump. On it."

.

There were three, even knocks upon the door that Dean and his brother were staying in. Sam was occupied with Chris in the living room downstairs, apparently sharing each other's hunting stories. At least, that was what Sam told Dean. His brother had left the room only a few minutes ago with a shifty look towards Dean before dropping a quick excuse and exiting the room.

"Come in," he grunted. He may have been in a foul mood, but he was at least glad he had a bed to sleep in for the night. Kat entered and Dean looked up from an out-dated magazine that was placed on the bedroom vanity and decided to take a gander at.

The first thing he noted was that she looked like she was about to confess a murder. Her lips were pursed in a straight, thin line and her steps were extremely hesitant and slow. Dean placed a hand on his knee, frowning at her as she closed the door with an unnecessary amount of time.

She faced him, arms tightly crossed over her chest and eyes looking over the little bedroom. The lighting was dim because just recently the power had failed and most of the house's rooms were illuminated by a few candles that Chris had given them. The air smelled dimly of gingerbread cookies because of the scented candle he had been given, which Dean had to admit was pleasant.

"Nice bedroom," Kat complimented quietly. Dean let out a small chuckle.

"Sure," he said, scratching his unshaven chin. The room itself was slightly narrow because of the pointed roof. In the flickering light of the candle's flame, Dean could make out how pale Kat looked. He couldn't comprehend why she looked so frightened. "I would've thought that you know this house well, considering you used to date him."

He couldn't bring himself to say Angel's name, mainly because it weighed like poison on his tongue.

"I've never been here before," she admitted. "This is his mother's house, I think. She deceased recently."

"That would explain the décor," said Dean, frowning with concern at a stuffed animal pig that had an abnormally wide smile that revealed sharp teeth. He shivered theatrically.

Kat smiled momentarily, but it soon faltered. Dean looked up at her from the bed, eyes narrowed.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked suddenly, before he could say anything. He raised his eyebrows.

"Shoot," he said uncertainly, shifting his position on the bed. Kat glanced between the armchair and the end of the bed, apparently facing a mental conflict. She made a bold move and seated herself opposite Dean on the squashy mattress.

There was a crack of lightning that lit the room up momentarily. Dean studied her biting her lower lip, starting to think there was something very dire going on now. He remembered vaguely how as a child, Kat had a minor fear of the lightning. It was strange considering the kid seemed to be tough as diamond, but he had an unpleasant feeling it was because their fathers were gone hunting on many rainy nights and facing them without her beloved father materialized the small phobia.

Now she didn't even flinch. It was a strange reminder of how Dean had watched Kat grow before his eyes and turn up before him as a strong, capable young woman. He imagined how proud Jack must be of her.

"When you found out everything about Sammy—the demon and blood an' all—how did you feel at first?"

Dean's eyebrows rose higher.

"You want to know how I felt about finding out my brother had been fed demon blood when he was six months old?"

She paused, then slowly nodded.

"Were you scared? Angry? Did you . . . see him as a threat?"

Now Dean's eyebrows were narrowing.

"All of the above?" he said with a helpless chuckle. His laughter faded immediately as his gaze suddenly turned stony as he stared at the wooden floor. "Dad, he—before he died—" but he cut himself, fighting against the painful constriction on his throat. Kat's eyes flickered sadly up to him. Her eyes were not full of sympathy nor pity; Kat was never like that. That was one of the reasons Dean loved her so much. Instead of the prior two, her eyes were filled with love and understanding.

"Don't finish that sentence, Dean," she said quietly. Her voice was small, even smaller when mingled in with the pouring rain on the roof. "I don't want to open up old wounds. I need to tell you something."

On the last sentence, her voice had suddenly picked up and turned firm. He looked at her with a contemplative gaze. He was grateful she wasn't asking him to finish his story, yet was still taken aback by her words.

"Yeah?" he said. His tongue was suddenly very dry and no amount of built up saliva was helping.

Her gaze lingered momentarily upon the window where another flash of lightning sneaked in from. After running her tongue along her lower lip, there was a small shimmer of the saliva in the dim light. She met Dean's eyes.

"I want you to know from me, and only me, and just plain out saying it is going to be ridiculous. You won't believe me."

"Kat," said Dean unsteadily, shifting his position. "If we're getting to the point anytime soon, I'd like a heads up."

Her expression froze momentarily. She didn't appear to be listening to him. Her stare occupied the floor once more and seemed to be thinking very hard.

Dean hesitated, half-contemplating reaching out his hand and resting it upon her shoulder. He wanted her to feel comfortable around him, like she seemed with Sam. He wondered what held her back from doing so. What had he done to make her so distant from him whenever they conversed? She had never been like this prior the six years of absence.

He was also damn curious as to what she had to tell him.

However, his fingers were a mere four inches away from her when the door creaked open and the two looked up. A head peaked in, a tall body following it. It was Angel and at the sight of him standing there Dean's face hardened.

"Katnip," he said in almost a manner that suggested he was talking to a toddler. As Dean looked over at Kat he was incredulous to discover a dim amount of relief was written over her face. He retracted his hand and awkwardly scratched the top of his head.

"I need to borrow Kat for a little while," said Angel with a toothy smile toward Dean who peered up at him with a grim smile.

"Ang, I'm kind of in the middle of something with Dean," said Kat who was frowning up at the giant.

"You kiddin', right?" chuckled Angel. "You practically live with them boys and you have all the time in the world with them. I just need to talk to you."

Kat stiffened slightly and glanced at Dean who promptly looked away, shrugging.

"Whatever. We can talk about—whatever it is—later."

Kat was mingled with the emotions of alleviation and reluctance. Her eyes were slightly steely as she looked up at Angel, getting to her feet.

"Soon," she promised Dean, but he was no longer listening. He didn't even hear the door close.

He sat back on the bed, folding his arms behind his head and staring at the narrowed ceiling. Eventually after several minutes of listening to the rain he closed his eyes.

_I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. _

* * *

**Did I invoke the anger I wish to upon you? Getting a little fed up that Kat's secret is still buried? Well so am I. I just want it to be over with but I have to write it out gradually, unfortunately.**

**Have any predictions as to what kind of trouble Angel is going to stir up? Or on anything at all? I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

**Tell me what you think? :)**


	17. Enclosed Spaces

**It's early, but I can't wait another week. I just want to progress the crap outta this story because I have the naughtiest thing planned. **

**There was one particular scene that I had a whole bunch of fun writing. Believe me, you'll know what I'm talking about when you find it.**

**Hope ya'll enjoy.**

SEVENTEEN: Enclosed Spaces

I was led by Angel down the narrow hallway to the back room. It looked to be some sort of sewing room. A tall, concealed white candle flickered sleepily on a desk surface, illuminating a yellowing sewing machine that sat beneath the rectangular window which was decorated in thin peach colored curtains. All along the bookshelves were assortments of binders and different fabric materials. My eyes caught sight of a velvet fabric thrown carelessly over a flowery armchair. With further inspection, I made it out to be some unfinished dress.

"My mama," said Angel, shutting the door behind him and walking up closer, watching me eye the cloth. "She loved to sew. Made most of the clothes in my wardrobe. She was right in the middle of makin' that, but she passed away."

I looked up at him.

"I wish I could have met her," I said.

Angel chuckled.

"You really don't. Woman was like a pit bull on a bad day. The bad hearing in my left ear is generally her fault. But I loved her; goddamn did I love her." His eyes lingered sadly on the unfinished dress for a few moments.

"How did she die?" I asked.

He looked back at me.

"The good 'ol fashion way," he stated. "Old, withering, and in her warm bed with a bowl of unfinished chicken soup. Never did finish it anyway," he added with a small chuckle. I tried to smile. "Anyway, not exactly what I wanted to talk 'bout."

He walked over to the sewing desk and leaned back on it, just as another crack of lightning ensued. My arms were folded awkwardly, my eyes trailing over the bookshelves to avoid looking directly at Angel. I was pretty sure I knew what was coming, and I wasn't prepared for it. I had just spent a good ten hours driving after about thirty minutes of trying to convince Dean to hand over the wheel so he could get some more rest.

"Don't get me wrong or anythin', Katnip," continued Angel when I said nothing. "I'm thrilled that you called and you have no idea how glad I am that you're here, but why now? Why didn't you call earlier? That note didn't really explain much."

I was silent for a few moments, leaning against the shelf opposite Angel with my arms still folded and crossing my legs.

"Yeah, I guess it didn't, did it?" I said tiredly, smiling without feeling much joy. I met Angel's eyes, still dark as coals as always. I had once looked into those eyes with so much affection, so much hope in my heart that I could maybe settle down and build up the life I craved. Then of course, 'monster puberty' came along and smashed those dreams before me.

The only clue I left for Angel was a torn piece of notebook paper saying 'Have to figure some things out. For the best, all my love, Kat.' It was unfair and stupid, but I wasn't about to explain the truth so fresh and soon after the incident.

"But I don't really know what else I have to say," I said quietly, fearfully meeting eye-contact again. "I was—working stuff out."

"Stuff that made you leave the state?" Angel questioned, raising thick brows. "Stuff so important you couldn't give me an explanation? I couldn't ask Jack anything because whenever I went to your house he slammed the door in my face and refused to come out until I left. I was scared, Kat. At first I thought I did something. I even tried to call the Winchesters since you talked about them so much, thinking they were bound to know something. But it was impossible to pinpoint the right number. Just tell me, Kat. It's been a year and I think I deserve to know."

He tried calling Dean and Sam? Talk about pulling drastic measures.

"I'm sorry, Angel," I said, looking up at him sadly, giving a small shrug. "I can't tell you. You just have to know that it was necessary for me to leave. I didn't want to leave you," I said quickly as Angel's eyes hardened slightly. "I never wanted to go. You were the highlight of my life, Ang."

I blatantly didn't feel I was being fair with him, but I didn't see Angel as a man I would have much to do with my life anymore so revealing my secret to him seemed redundant. He had proved to be an important asset to my life because he was the one showed me the world of romance and what it felt like to be a girl. I had never been with anyone beside him, both relationship wise and sexually.

We looked at each for several more rain-pouring filled moments, before he heaved a sigh and scratched the top of his head.

"You've changed, Kat," he said lowly and I frowned. "When I met you . . . you were this—I dunno—big ball of light. You were so eager to help, always smilin', always goofin' around. But whatever," he added before I could reply. "It is what it is now. You're with them Winchesters and I doubt you're gonna be stickin' 'round much longer. That was another thing I wanted to talk about."

I stiffened my shoulders, wanting nothing more than to escape back into my room and wait until morning.

Angel appeared to be waiting for me to say something, and when I did not, he continued.

"I know you and them brothers used to go on hunting trips together," he said. "How good were you at your job?"

I raised my eyebrows.

"You have a hunting job for us?" I asked, temporarily surprised out of my tiredness.

"I didn't say that," said Angel tentatively. A small pause. "But yeah. I mean, obviously I don't wanna stop your road trip to wherever the hell you're off 'ta, but the help is always welcome."

"What's been going on?" I asked curiously. I couldn't remember the last time I had had a good, down-to-earth demon hunt and found myself strangely craving one.

"Five people in the last week have died in Hickman," Angel explained with no hesitation.

"Under what circumstances?"

Angel had a small smile. He reached behind him on the desk for a newspaper and tossed it to me. The front page consisted of a picture of two men carrying a stretcher with a black body bag placed on it. The title read 'Cannibal Loose in Small Town Hickman.'

"All five of them died from loss of blood—after having every inch of their skin eaten off."

My blood turned cold—which was saying a lot since it burned like boiling water. I raised my eyes from the newspaper to stare at Angel.

"Have you looked into it?" I asked.

"Who do you take me for, Katnip? One of 'em, I knew. Partially, anyway. Third victim was my neighbor, Kendall. Accordin' to her husband, everythin' was completely normal until he came down the next mornin' to find a fleshless Kendall layin' on the kitchen floor. All I found at the scene was this."

Angel reached into his pocket and held out his hand to me. A small object dropped into my hand and I stared at it. It was a miniature black shoe, only big enough for me to place my forefinger in.

"We're dealing with Barbie?" I asked.

Angel smiled.

"From what I gathered, Kendall doesn't even have any children. You up for a case, Katnip?"

I paused, pocketing the little shoe.

"I'll talk to Dean and Sam," I said.

.

"Watch your head," Dean warned as Kat lifted herself through the window and slid into the house.

"Do you need a hand?" she asked.

"No, I got it," he assured her, glancing wearily over his shoulder to make sure none of the neighbors were watching. He grabbed hold of the edge of the sill, using all of his upper body strength to hurl himself if. But as he was halfway in, the window gave way and fell on his back, causing him to grunt painfully.

"Whoop," said Kat, hurrying to relieve the the weight off him. He crawled inside, landing on the white carpet and rubbing his back.

"Are—you hurt?" Kat asked, placing a hand over her mouth and looking like she was trying a great deal not to laugh.

"Just my pride," Dean grunted, standing up straight and rubbing his lower back. He wished they could have merely gone in through one of the first floor windows, but they all proved to be locked and no one was answering the door. Hence, they both immediately become criminals.

Only a few hours ago Kat had come to him and suggested that they looked into the strange events that occurred recently. Kat seemed a bit surprised that Dean was up for it. True, he didn't like the idea of staying for a day longer than necessary with Angel, but he had too many things on his mind to deal with and a good, down-to-earth demon hunt suited his needs.

In the meantime, while Dean and Kat performed their break-in, Sam stayed back at the house to do some research. He seemed irregularly adamant about being left behind and assured Dean and Kat that he wouldn't feel too disappointed about breaking any laws.

"So what exactly should we be looking for?" Kat asked as they got a chance to look at the room they resided in. It was a simple, spotless bedroom that looked unused, leaving Dean to assume it was a guest bedroom.

"Um, the usual. Sulfur, flickering lights, little Rumpelstiltskin boots."

"I don't think that kind of demon is what killed these people," said Kat. "Spirits, demons—they don't eat. I think we're dealing with something a little bit . . . fleshy-er."

Dean stopped walking and turned to look at her.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"Fleshy-er?" he mimicked, raising his eyebrows.

"You know what I mean," she grumbled, walking past him to enter the long hallway and glancing down both ends. "Maybe we're facing Satanic sacrifice?"

"Next on the devil's list: five orders of human skin. Comes with a liter of virgin blood," said Dean with a short laugh.

"You really didn't just make that joke, did you?" she asked, her nose scrunching. Dean grinned.

"You said the guy was killed in his own bedroom?" Dean asked as they moved warily down the hallway, peering every now and then into a room.

"Thats what Angel said."

"And did 'Angel' say that the victims had any connections?" Dean asked sourly.

"No, not really. So far, they all seemed to be random," she said. "We'll find something."

Dean creaked open the last door on the right and peering inside. It looked to be the master bedroom. A large, king-sized bed with black quilts sat opposite a large flat screen TV.

"Sucker's doin' pretty well for himself," said Dean, glancing around.

"Except that he's dead," said Kat, taking the first step into the room and glancing around. "That must have been where he was killed." She pointed to a spot on the carpet that had a crimson stain, formed almost perfectly into a human shape.

"What gave it away?" asked Dean. She nudged his side but didn't reply. She bent down by the stain, trailing her fingers along the edges.

"Looks like—whatever it was—ate his skin right here."

"That doesn't make sense," said Dean, bending beside her. "No one would just sit there long enough for their blood to make an imprint of their body while something ate them."

"Unless . . . the 'something' has paralysis powers?" Kat suggested.

"Or poison," said Dean as the two rose to their feet again. He glanced around, eyes catching something laying beside the nightstand and hastened to pick it up. However, the next second he wished he hadn't. The object was soft and mushy and Dean shivered, flicking his hand around as if he just touched a spider.

Kat frowned, reaching forward and picking it up. She looked like she was about to vomit as she raised it eye-level.

"It's skin," she whispered. "A piece of torn skin."

"Alright, that is _not _okay," Dean said with irritation high in his voice.

"No, Dean. Look," Kat persisted, trying to raise it to his face.

"Oh, _may _I?" he asked sarcastically.

"It has teeth marks. Little teeth marks."

Dean heaved a sigh, bending down again and studying the flesh steadily. Indeed, along the sides were miniature chomps that didn't look any bigger than sesame seeds.

"Ugh," Kat shuddered, throwing the skin aside and getting to her feet, wiping her fingers furiously on her jeans. "How could something that small eat up an entire man?"

"Not how small—how many," said Dean and Kat raised her eyebrows at him.

"You think there were more than one?"

"Do you think something this tiny could eat a whole man within a few hours? I think I know this," he added, placing up a hand to silence Kat and thinking hard. "Saka—shiki, no. Dad has this in his journal somewhere. We'll have to look it up when we get home."

"Good. I just need to wash my hands first," said Kat, face contorted in disgust.

"I can't believe you picked it up," Dean chuckled as he shut the bedroom door behind them.

"I can't believe you were too chicken to," she taunted, checking a room and entering when she saw it was the bathroom. Dean heard the water run and glanced down the staircase for a few moments. A minute later, he heard Kat say 'Whoops' and walked up to the bathroom door again.

"Kat?" Dean said hesitantly on the other side of the door. There was silence on the other side. There was no way she couldn't hear him. "Kat?"

"Um. Dean?"

He opened the door. On the bathroom counter was a unopened box of band aids, but his eyes drifted immediately to the thing Kat was holding. It was a clear, plastic baggy, and its contents included a generous amount of a white, powdery substance.

"I was looking for soap, and accidentally knocked this out of the medicine cabinet," Kat explained as she set it tenderly down beside the band aids. "I'm stretching this one but I'm guessing that isn't powdered sugar."

"No, I have a feeling you're right," Dean said stiffly. "One of the victims was an addict. Think any of the others had problems?"

"It's possible. We'll have to check it out," said Kat. She took the baggy, rolled it up and stuck it in the back of her pocket.

"What are you doin'?" he demanded.

"I think he has kids. I don't want them to find it," she said.

"Yeah, he was obviously thinkin' along the same lines if he put it in the freaking band aid box," he said sardonically, but recognized the look she was giving him and submitted.

"Just as long—" he began, but he was cut off by Kat who suddenly grabbed his arm and wrenched him out of the bathroom. "Kat, what—!"

"Shh!" she said. "We have to—"

But there was a sound of a door opening and closing and Dean's eyes widened a bit. He stared at Kat who was looking fearfully down the staircase.

"How the hell did you _hear _them?" Dean demanded.

"Not now," she said hurriedly. "We have to get back to the window—oh shit!"

A second later there was a figure at the end of the stairs, their head bent and walking up towards them.

"No time," Dean breathed, taking Kat's wrist and jerking her just as harshly as she had just done with him and dragging her to the end of the hall. He wrenched open a door but was almost buried in a downfall of brooms, mops, and other cleaning utensils.

"It's a broom closet," said Kat incredulously, looking extremely apprehensive.

"It's our only way of avoiding jail," Dean said. As if he needed any more trouble in that area. He already had a mug shot traveling through the Internet and causing him a small degree of trouble. "Get in."

Shit, it was going to be a tight fit.

Kat squeezed in, and her alone fit little more than half of the minuscule cupboard. With her palms planted flatly against the wall with the rest of her body, Dean moved in after her, trying with difficulty to shut the door tightly.

In a matter of seconds, he was having a hard time breathing from the ludicrous stuffiness. Out of nowhere, the temperature of the little room seemed to rise up to the heavens and an intense sweat picked up along his hairline. What was even more absurd was that the heat seemed to be emanating from none other than Kat.

Her back was firmly planted against his front and his hitching breath was ruffling her loose hair. He tried to back up further into the wall behind him, but the room was far too small and their size much too large. All worries about being discovered suddenly seemed completely inconsequential, and the only pressing matter right now was, well, the pressing matter down _there._

He let out a breath of indignation, eyes flickering feverishly all around him in attempts to clear his mind of any thoughts. But it was too dark. There was nothing to center his vision on. However, there was an end of a broom wedged painfully between his armpit and ribs and focusing on his discomfort relieved him a bit of any more unwanted thoughts.

_Why the hell didn't we go in back-to-back? _

Looking back on this thought, Dean suddenly felt extremely idiotic. It was beginning to become increasingly difficult not take heed of how tightly her backside was pressed against his front, or the pressure building up in his jeans.

He tried instead to listen to what was going outside the door but could hear nothing. As the silence pressed on, Dean could not take it any longer. He reached for the door handle but was quickly stopped when Kat took hold of his hand, grasping it tightly.

"No," she whispered. "They're still out there."

"How do you know?" Dean breathed. His face, he imagined, must be beet red by this point. What with the rising temperature and current situation, he could practically feel the heat crawl across his skin.

Kat didn't answer, but Dean also noted that she didn't let go of his hand either.

Her breath picked up, her body rising up and down with heavy breaths. Dean couldn't blame her; it felt like it was over one hundred degrees in here! But the sound of her small sighs and Dean pressed so firmly against her, he was losing ownership of his willpower. He wanted so badly just to brush aside her hair off her sweating neck, or even to place his hands on her waist.

His head lowered slightly, enough so that the breath from his nostrils hit the back of her neck. Kat obviously didn't disregard this; her entire body stiffened before him and Dean heard her breath catch. Her fingers tightened over his, and Dean found himself squeezing back.

Dean ran his tongue over his chapped lips closing his eyes briefly and doing everything in his power to clear his head.

To his relief or indignation—he couldn't make up his mind—Kat opened the door a creak and a stream of pleasant fresh air brushed in.

"They're in the shower," Kat said, still quiet. Dean swallowed, but stopped asking her how she knew this. With minor difficulty, they exited the closet and Dean wiped his forehead with his sleeve, releasing a deep breath.

They made eye-contact. Kat's face was shining slightly with sweat and always adopted the color or rust red. She studied Dean's face steadily with a small frown. Dean looked back at her uncertainly, finally nodding his head to the staircase.

"Let's go," he said.

There was a quick beat, then Kat nodded.

* * *

**Sexual tension. Sexual tension. Sexual tension.**

**That's basically what I was thinking the entire time while writing this. Do tell if I was able to narrow it down or not.**

**Just a few notes to make. I realize this is a slow-paced story and seems to get on the nerves of at least some of my viewers, but to me, that means I'm doing something right. I kind of want you guys to be a little frustrated with the slow moving romance, because when it does come, I'm hoping you guys will enjoy it more. Kind of like 'the longer you wait, the sweeter it will taste'.**

**But by all means, if you're looking for a faster paced story, I have another Supernatural fic based in the fifth season and things are a lot faster. Please feel free to check it out and tell me what you think, or don't. Whatever you want.**

**Anyhoo, thank you SO much for reading and don't be afraid to tell me what you think!**


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